


The Broken Club

by TheKiwiBird



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Broken Universe, Canon up to 30 July 2017, Gen, Kayfabe Compliant, Minor canon divergence, Reworking of 31 July 2017 RAW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 34,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKiwiBird/pseuds/TheKiwiBird
Summary: - Chapter 20 UP 10/21-The Broken Hardys decide that the time for nostalgia is over, and the time for rendering all the RAW title holders OBSOLETE is now. But, with so many titles and so few family members to claim them, they decide to reach out to similarly ENLIGHTENED talent within the roster.The biggest draw in their gaze? The most talented and driven superstars who are all neglected and fraying at the seams.





	1. Cast-Off I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hardy Boyz decide that the time for decripit nostalgia is OVAH after a rough loss.

Two BRILLIANT Brogue Kicks. That was all it took.

Both brothers lied unconscious in the ring, a blind tag off one laid up against the ringpost having let the other in. 

A quick pin. It was done.

The referee was quick to check on the Hardy brothers, rousing both of them after a while with the aid of medical staff. The crowd was roaring, bagpipes and guitars wailing over the speakers.

Matt was the first to raise up, having been the first to fall.

This was the first time they had lost in a while. 

They licked their wounds, got cleared, and took a deserving day off.

\-----

Sitting at the Hardy Compound together, Matt and Jeff found themselves eventually seated in the front lawn, cross-legged and in silence.

For hours they sat, staring and contemplating.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon as Matt spoke up.

“Brother Nero, I believe the time of novelty has passed.”

Jeff nodded.

“This QUIXOTIC streak we’ve adopted has run its course. I believe we must AWAKEN our true selves, clothe our VESSELS as we should, and show them our Broken Brilliance.”

“Reclaim the titles.”

Matt’s familiar stippled and wavering laugh pierced the air. “We should SOJOURN further; claim ALL the titles in the WWE that we can!”

“Are we allowed to do that, Brother Moore?”

“...Perhaps not on our own.” Matt nodded. “We should, then, recruit allies in this fresh roster to assist us in obtaining the bejeweled gold trophies they so DESIRE.”

“So long as we can claim them for the glory of House Hardy, under our banner, under our roof…”

“Then they will be ours. We can...ADVOCATE for them, be their AEGIS, two CHAPERONES to show them the path to glory!” Matt tossed his hands up in glee, stipple-laughing with a twisted look of joy etched in his face.

“Shall we invoke the Seven Deities to bring them here?”

“No, Brother Nero. The Seven Deities will show us the way to them. Tomorrow, we begin our VOYAGE anew!”

Reby stood in the doorway, King Maxel in her arms, and a smile on her face. 

“I will get your coats from storage.”

“WONDERFUL!”


	2. Hypnagogia I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Broken Hardys set out on their quest, Finn Balor finds himself suffering a mysterious ailment following the disastrous guitar shot from Elias Samson two weeks prior.

“Have you considered another CT scan?”

Finn covered his face with his hands. “They didn’t find anythin’ th’first time, Bayley.”

Bayley frowned, sitting down next to Finn on the park bench outside the hospital. Finn pulled his legs up, crossing them as he wrapped his arms around himself.

“Maybe go to a sleep doctor or something for the insomnia? That can’t be helping the whole ‘hearing and seeing things’ part.”

“So I can develop a pill habit? No t’anks.”

“Maybe...sleep with someone?” Finn turned his head, raising a curious eyebrow. “I mean, in the room. Someone in the room with you, instead of sleeping in a room alone.”

“And what good would t’at do, huh? Two people who can’t sleep.”

“Well, having somebody in your room might help you sleep better. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I’ll just call up Sasha and hang in her room ‘til I get tired.”

“So...y’wanna bunk with me, eh?” Finn smirked devilishly and elbowed her lightly in the ribs. Bayley shoved him lightly back, chuckling.

“I'm just saying, if it gets real bad, you can always plop on my floor just to try. If anything, we can hang out and build some space rockets or something.”

“You travel wit’ yer model kit too now, eh?”

“I have a little alien invasion when I'm bored.”

“Well t’en, I guess Captain Finn will have t’survey Captain Bayley’s fine operation soon.” Finn smiled warmly.

“Definitely. Now, let’s get Captain Finn back to his hotel room nice and safely.” Bayley stood up, offering her hand. He took it firmly, and let her lead him to her car.

\-----

The shadows were moving across the wall again.

...were those whispers the hushed voices of the room next door, or was it those ones again? 

Finn clamped the pillow around his head and curled up into the fetal position, the sheets coiling around him.

There weren't any trees around, why were there claws in the moonlight on his wall?

He clamped his eyes tightly shut, desperately trying to will himself to sleep.

Blocking out every external sound, the soft, eternally-existing, whisper in the back of his mind was the only sound that remained. 

Some nights, when everything was dead, it was the only sound he could hear. Sometimes when he focused hard and channeled his fury before he unleashed his Demon persona, he could swear the jumbled sounds actually formed understandable words.

But this was different. All he wanted was to sleep.

He had to make that last sound silent, just to see if maybe, just maybe, this was the source of his insomnia.

He dug deep in his mind, chasing the source amongst all the dead clutter he had shut off before. The voice grew louder; it was his own, but deep and static-filled, becoming increasingly all-encompassing in nature as he sunk into its field of audibility.

It uttered a mantra that sharpened as he continued to focus on it.

_Let go._

Finn wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be letting go of, but it was worth a go.

“What do I need t’let go’f…?” He muttered aloud, clamping the pillow around his head.

_Everything._

Finn’s eyes shot open, a shudder rippling down his spine.

He drove himself out of the deep depths of his mind, and reached for the small baggie of sleep aids that Bayley had tried to sneak into his pocket but was entirely too clumsy about.

Sleep would come, but not that way.

\-----

_The sensation of sleep came with a deep, sinking feeling, and vivid dreams of flickering lights, fleeting as fireflies. Loud sounds of doors slamming, rain falling, intense heat and little gusts of air. At one point, he was sure he heard Bayley’s voice, however garbled the sound was, and a heavily distorted view of the hotel lobby as he traversed through it._

_It was dark again, nothing visual, but the sounds of fleeting radio signals over and over, and finally a voice broke through._

_“...Balor…? ...Balor…?”_

Finn’s eyes shot open.

He stood at the cafe counter, a barista staring at him as if he had several heads. Sunlight shined from behind him, and there were several people behind him. A coffee cup sat in the barista’s hand, labeled with the name of the Demon King.

Was this a dream still…?

He reached out and took the cup, completely unsure of what exactly was going on.

“...did I pay yet?”

“You’re all set.” The barista smiled warmly.

“Sorry, not enough caffeine yet.”

“Well, this is plenty.”

Finn wondered now what exactly he had apparently ordered in his sleep.

He smelled the contents; it was certainly stronger than what he was used to. ...Did he order for Bayley? Was she even there? What time was it?

Finn walked out slowly, trying to compose himself. He spotted Bayley’s car, Bayley looking quite annoyed.

He slipped into the passenger seat, holding the cup out to her. 

“Uh, I have my coffee already.”

“...I don’t’ink I ordered mine right. It smells like one’a yers.”

Bayley took the cup, sniffed it, then took a sip. After a moment she grimaced. “Ugh, there’s no sugar in this. Not even sweetener. What did you even get?” She checked the cup side, and saw the name and lack of any markings. “What possessed you to get a straight black coffee?” She looked back at Finn, who was staring nervously at the clock radio. “Finn?”

“...When di’ja wake me up?”

“Uh, you woke me up at 6. I told you to come back at 8, so you did, and demanded a coffee run, which you still haven’t apologized for, by the way…” Bayley realized that she wasn’t the only person who was confused. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“...Was I s’posed t’take both’f those pills y’put in my coat?”

Bayley sighed. “...Wanna try just one tonight instead?”

“If ya’t’ink y’can handle anot’er early mornin’ wake-up.”

“Yeah,” Bayley smiled. “I mean, if you’re not gonna hit the hospital again, we’ll have to find some happy medium for you. Can’t have one of my besties half-asleep on his feet at work!” She leaned over and hugged his shoulders tightly. He gripped her arms, sighing.

“Sorry.”

“We’re gonna get you through this, okay?”

Finn set the coffee he had bought in the cup holder and leaned his head against her shoulder, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. Bayley rested her head atop his. 

“You did sleep though?”

“Yeh. Just woke up in t’coffee shop, best I can r’member.”

“...Oh.” A shiver ran up Bayley’s spine.

“Sorry I put you t’rough t’is.”

“I’m the idiot who gave you way too much melatonin. We’ll try just one tonight.” She leaned up, removing her arms from around his shoulders. “You want me to go in and get you your regular?”

“Yer not afraid I might drive t’car off wit’out ya?” Finn leaned back up, chuckling.

“As long as you get yourself to the arena in one piece, I think I’d be fine with that.” Bayley smirked. “I’ll be right back.”


	3. Devotion I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Finn's sleepwalking incident, Bayley decides to reach out to someone she can trust for some help in assuring his safety and well-being when she can't.

Bayley stood in the coffee shop, quickly whipping out her phone and checking her contacts. She had organized every last close friend she had and left notes in their profiles. Noted for everybody was their coffee preferences, in case somebody needed a treat to cheer themselves up.

As she scanned around for Finn’s, her mind poked at her to continue scrolling down. It was a faint whisper of sound directing her to scroll down to her entry for Jeff Hardy, and she found herself texting him while waiting.

_Hey Jeff! Uh, sorry for the sudden text, but I was wondering if you could help me out._

She waited, bouncing. If 12 year-old her knew she had Jeff’s number, and knew she had even spent any amount of time with him, she would have died. And now here she was, asking him for help.

Her phone pinged.

_Good morning, Sister Rose. How can I be of assistance to you?_

...Ah, she remembered this style of talking from some of their travels abroad. Perhaps they were just playing it up for fun for the outside-the-Universe fans; there had been high demand from those members of the crowd for them to continue on their often-strange travelings and personas that they had acquired outside the territory, but for whatever reason, the two had summoned up the old nostalgia vibe for their return to the WWE.

Guess the nostalgia trip was over. A tingle of excitement filled her; she wondered what it would be like to work with those two now that they were in full “Broken” mode.

_Well, Finn’s not been sleeping all that great. He seems a little out of it. Could you keep an eye on him? I would do it myself but I can’t in the locker room._

She arrived at the counter, and quickly flicked to Finn’s contact info and scrolled to her notes..

“Hi, I need a medium-sized dark roast latte, with soy, don’t skimp, and oh! Uh, uh, like, half a pump of hazelnut. I’ll pay for a whole shot but like, only half a shot is necessary.” 

“Is that all?”

“Yeah.” Bayley hane the cashier her wallet, and her phone pinged.

_Of course, Sister Rose. Brother Balor’s well-being is considered a high priority of House Hardy. Brother Moore and I will safeguard in your stead._

Bayley smiled and waited for Finn’s coffee.

\-----

Finn was sitting in the car, lost in thought. She almost didn’t want to know what he was thinking about. Bayley sighed, started the car, dumped the other coffee, then began to drive to the arena.

He drank silently, listening to the radio. She cleared her throat.

“You have a match tonight?”

“Dunno. Y’got that match against Nia, yeah?”

Bayley grinned widely. “Yeah. Gonna show Alexa what she’s got to deal with at Summerslam; I’m gonna take her big bad bodyguard down.” Bayley smiled optimistically, and Finn gave a small smile back.

“Is Sasha gonna watch?”

“I hope. She’s always got my back.”

Finn nodded. “I’ll watch too.”

She stopped at the red light, looking to Finn. “You wanna change the station?”

“I’m n’t’even list’nin’.” Finn shrugged and drank his coffee. “T’anks. T’is is perfect.”

Bayley turned the radio off, smirking. “Figured you could use a pick-me-up.”


	4. Cast-Off II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Nero sets forth on his vow to Bayley, and Broken Matt sets his sights on another member of the roster while surveying the locker room.

Brother Nero slid his phone back into his carry bag, looking up to Matt.

“Brother Balor has been squandered, tossed aside and broken by the machine that operates this house. Sister Rose believes that his vessel harbors scars...that he might be broken.”

“Ah, but one can’t be BROKEN without DELETION. Best for us to see for ourselves.”

“She wishes for us to safeguard him while in the locker room.”

“We should CHAPERONE him in full. Perhaps, even have Vanguard 1 shadow him.”

“That would be auspicious, Brother Moore.”

“Go then, Brother Nero. PROCURE Brother Balor and prepare him for an EXAMEENATION. We must prepare for the INAUGURAL battle of the GREAT WAR tonight, and Brother Balor might prove integral to our victory.”

“I believe he will.”

“We shall seat him ringside as an unassuming companion. Perhaps he will provide ENLIGHTENING commentary.”

“Or perhaps we can enlighten him with your Broken Brilliance in the field of battle.”

“Yeeeeeeeeees~ that sounds absolutely DELIGHTFUL! Yeeeeeeeeees~”

“They shall be arriving soon. I will go attend to them.”

“Go then, Brother Nero. I shall DELIBERATE the premises while you do so.”

Brother Nero nearly glided out, leaving Broken Matt to wander around and inspect the locker room.

Several wrestlers greeted him kindly, showing the proper modicum of respect for the veteran in their presence, some of the more maligned members seemed to jeer at Broken Matt’s attire; Luke Gallows gave a hearty “Nice coat, nerd!”, eliciting a cackle from Karl Anderson.

A smash rang out through an empty section of lockers, and Broken Matt investigated. Dean Ambrose had kicked a locker, putting a small dent in the door frame. Pacing around madly and poking at his phone, he appeared to be muttering something.

“...how the fuck could he not be...no, no...she would've said shit if...fuck!” 

He clutched his head and crumpled down onto a bench. He shivered nervously, not seeming to notice Broken Matt’s presence. 

As if the Seven Deities had synchronized this meeting, Broken Matt could swear he felt a tingling in his spine as a faint aura surrounded the quivering body sat in front of him. He surmised that it was a good idea to investigate.

“What seems to be troubling you, Brother Jon?”

Dean jumped at the initial sound of his voice, then gave him a once over. “How’d you…?” He scoffed. “Whatever. Can you leave me alone?”

“If you wish.” Broken Matt nodded. “I am DELIBERATING the premisees, if you wish to ACQUIESCE your locker-damaging woes to me at any time before our battles tonight, please seek me out.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Dean exhaled roughly. As Broken Matt began to laugh to himself and leave, Dean smirked. “Like the coat.”

“Perhaps you would like one of your own?”

“Nah. Mine’s still got life in it. Besides, I'm not a ‘fancy designs’ kind of guy.”

“Ah, I DENOUNCE this notion of yours; you exude this macho persona, but I descry that under all those layers, a MARVELOUS creature awaits to bloom forth.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, quite annoyed. “No offense, but can you just fuck off right now?”

“As you wish.” Broken Matt wandered off, leaving Dean to continue self-treating his oncoming migraine.


	5. Inheritance I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Ambrose finds himself at odds with devastating news when the last person he wanted to talk to shows up to try and talk.

Dean sighed deeply, looking over the screen of his cellphone, one hand still cradling his throbbing skull. Taking an Excedrin likely wasn’t something he’d be allowed to do. He’d just have to drink a few as soon as he could leave work.

“Hey.”

_Ugh, not that voice._

“Fuck off, Seth.”

“Uh, sure, I’ll take that as a ‘hi’, sure.”

“I said fuck off!” Dean glared in Seth’s direction.

Seth frowned, sitting down on the bench opposite Dean as he continued to towel-dry his hair.

“Uh, you’re doing the opposite of fucking off. Bad move.”

“What’s up?”

“Really? You’re gonna waste my fucking time and your physical health for small talk?”

“Just heard a racket over here earlier, came back to check once I got some clothes on.”

“How nice of you to put pants on before you made sure everything was fine. My hero.” Dean sighed deeply, rolling his eyes.

“Well if I knew it was you, I might have just let that slide.” Seth smirked. Dean simply applied his ‘annoyed face’ harder. “You alright?”

“Uh, clearly not, and I ain’t looking for your help.”

“You don’t have to look for it. You know I’m right he-”

Dean shot up from his seat. “Cut your bullshit, Seth. I’m tired of it. I’m sick of this friendly bullshit, and I have plenty of my own crap to deal with without you adding to it!”

“Is it your mom?”

Dean’s anger melted momentarily, replaced by an insulted look, a shake of the head, then a sigh of defeat. “Why do you ask?”

“I remember last year, end of the year, I heard your mom was in the hospital, and you were just tearing the place up between that and Styles taking advantage of ya while you were worried about her. So...is your mom okay?”

Dean sighed deeply. “She’s fine. But you’re right, she had an infection in her kidneys. Treatments didn't take the first time. She's fine now.” Dean collapsed on the bench again, clutching his head and hiding his face. “...it’s my dad.”

Seth sat back, taking the news in.

“...how bad?”

“Not good. In fact, pretty bad.”

“Shit.”

“I might have to take time off.”

“If you nee-”

“Don’t finish that thought out loud.”

Seth closed his mouth, sighing.

“I gotta go down for testing. They...they fucked up the bloodwork I sent down already.”

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem though.”

“Yeah, yeah, not a problem.” Dean sighed. “Just more of my free time I have to spend somewhere else I didn’t need to be.”

“Okay.” Seth nodded. “If I ca-” Seth stopped himself, looking away and smirking. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah. Later.” Dean sighed deeply, then went back to cradling his throbbing head while looking over his pile of text messages from his mother. Seth took the hint and left.


	6. Cast-Off III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Finn under his watchful gaze, Brother Nero surmises that drastic measures might have to be taken in order to stabilize the Irishman.

Brother Nero plastered on his warming smile as Finn and Bayley walked into the building.

“Greetings, Sister Rose and Brother Balor.”

Bayley was already all grins and excitement as she spotted him.

“Ahhhhhh, this is pretty cool! I remember seeing pictures of you and Ma-...Broken Matt while you were touring the other territories! I’m really excited!”

“You should be elated, Sister Rose. The time has come.”

“Ahhhhh, I love my new name, too!” Bayley jumped slightly and clapped her hands. 

Finn hadn’t said a word, and didn’t even seem to realize that Brother Nero was there.

“Okay, well, I'm gonna head for the locker rooms and get settled. See you later?”

“We shall make acquaintances after the Grand Battles cease, Sister Rose.” Brother Nero have a slight bow at the waist, then turned to Finn. “Brother Balor, shall we?”

Finn shook his head and blinked. “Hm?”

“Sister Rose is departing for the lockers, perhaps we should head for ours as well?”

“Ah…sure.” Finn took a long sip from his drink and began to follow Brother Nero after a quick side-hug from Bayley.

Brothers Nero and Balor walked down the halls, passing by a disgruntled Seth Rollins and a gossiping Miztourage. Neither seemed to pay them any more than an acknowledging nod as they passed by.

Brother Nero could sense an immense lack of energy circling around Brother Balor; a lashing-out of wavelengths that, when in a precise proximity to Brother Balor’s vessel, seemed to sense his presence and attempt to coil around him as well. It was indescribable, and very certainly imperceptible even at his own enhanced capabilities, but his mind conjured a sensation of tendrils of emptiness reaching out from every shadow, grasping desperately to swallow every drop of what resided in their vessels to feed some possibly nefarious underlying hunger elsewhere.

Perhaps this was the source of the typically vivacious Brother Balor’s sudden bout of lethargy and silence; it could be that he was simply naturally sensitive to such anomalies. Such a sensitivity was rare, and not without some level of enlightenment. And moreso, that Sister Rose seemed far less afflicted than him suggested that she had a...tolerance...to negative and life-sapping forces.

Brother Moore would be delighted to hear these revelations, surely.

He sat Brother Balor on a bench, looking him over. The air around him seemed to warp and ripple as it approached his vessel, as if bent by a great heat. It wasn’t a actual wave of heat, but it still bent the air to its will.

Brother Balor merely sat sipping the coffee in his hand, staring far beyond his gaze.

“I have been informed by Sister Rose that you have been plagued lately by various symptoms of erratic sleep.” Brother Balor sighed deeply.

“I told’er t’stop worryin’.”

“I can sense a vast swell of negativity feasting on you like a parasite.” Brother Balor looked up at him, curious. Brother Nero knelt to his line of sight. “Yes, it tears away at the light around you, the light _in you_. Sleep doesn’t stop it, does it? If you could sleep, it only makes it worse.”

Brother Balor had grown silent, wide-eyed. 

“These are merely things I have observed, and things I hypothesized merely being in your vessel’s presence. There is something intangible about your vessel, lingering maliciously, with short but opportunistic ambit. I wish to supplement any form of self-purging you are attempting with this entity.”

Brother Balor set his coffee down, then got up and began to silently walk to the bathroom stalls. Brother Nero understood; he had once his own troubles, his own demons to purge…

Was that the problem? _...Oh._

He sat and waited, cross-legged, silently conversing with the Seven Deities as he waited for Brother Balor to return. It seemed as though a day had passed before a voice spoke to the right of him.

“Brother Nero, what is it that you are doing here?” 

Brother Nero looked up at Broken Matt. “Commiserating with the Seven Deities about what the course of action for Brother Balor should be.”

“How is his CONDEESHUN?”

“Grave, I fear. Life-threatening, certainly. Must be purged or leashed, They say.”

Broken Matt tossed his arms up in dismay. “OHHHHH, TERRIBLE! I shall invoke the Seven Deities to DELETE this entity!”

“Do we have time now to do so properly?”

Broken Matt eyed the clock. “Hm...not enough time to vacate the premeeses, no…”

A gravely voice called out from several rows down. “CAN YOU PLEASE TAKE THE YAPPING SOMEWHERE ELSE? SOME OF US HAVE HEADACHES!”

“Ah, yes, Brother Jon is suffering from a migraine. Perhaps we should take to the room of resting to confront Brother Balor?”

“WONDERFUL idea!” Broken Matt cackled and wandered into the bathroom stalls, Brother Nero in close pursuit.

Brother Balor was holed up in a stall, breathing heavily in a panic. Brother Matt knelt down in front of the stall on one knee.

“Brother Balor, I apologize if Brother Nero was in any way ACERBIC. We wish only to ALLEVIATE your health hazards. A man of your caliber should not be made to suffer with this CONDEESHUN, particularly alone, and also without skilled professionals.”

“I. ‘M NOT. GOING. BACK. TO. T’HOSPITAL.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I did not mean a DOCTAH, no! We DESCRY that a DOCTAH would merely try to DELETE your CONDEESHUN, which is not the solution. Pure EXTIRPATION would be catastrophic as well. May I enter your protective barricade to further examine you?”

Brother Balor exhaled deeply, then opened the door. Broken Matt slid in, looking Brother Balor over for several minutes, walking around him, seemingly running his fingers through Brother Balor’s personal aura. 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES.This is quite a predeecament. As terminal as it sounds. Yes, we simply must spend time communing with this entity t-”

“I can’t promise yer safety.”

“Our vessels are but flesh, but your very essence is at stake! We can risk pieces of our vessels for your essence.”

Brother Balor blinked, looking at Broken Matt as if unable to process exactly what emotion to emote. After a few moments, he merely shook his head in agreement.

“Wh’t’ver yeh need.”

Broken Matt looked back at Brother Nero. “Prepare a ward in this building to rebuke this entity’s pull on the others. I shall invoke the Seven Deities to safeguard Brother Balor’s essence so this malignant entity does not DELETE it while we are bound here in this arena.”

“I shall do so.” Brother Nero scampered off as Broken Matt took took a stance over Brother Balor, holding one hand upwards, palm to the ceiling, and setting one hand down hovering over Finn’s head, palm down.

“I call to thee, Seven Deities! Neric, Chole, Chall, Sirko, Astarr, Gustavo, Brohare, heed my call! I plead with you, cloister Brother Balor’s essence in your POWAH, be the aegis it needs against this malignant entity...”


	7. Devotion II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bayley finds herself approached by an unlikely individual looking for advice in her forte: friendship. Both get more than they bargained for as a result.

The women’s locker room was always tense, but Bayley could feel something dark and intangible lingering about.

Alexa stood in the mirror, primping and gossiping to Nia, Mickie and Dana were snipping back and forth about something involving their gym bags, Emma was powdering her nose nearby, clearly listening in, and Alicia and Summer were having a heated discussion about nail polish while Sasha sat with her back to them, lacing up her gym shoes.

“Hey Sasha! Wanna work out with me, get a little warming up in before tonight?”

“I’m actually gonna go hit catering up. You wanna grab somethin’ with me?”

“Nah, already ate. I’ll catch you around, then.”

“Later, girl.” Sasha smiled and walked off.

Bayley picked a locker and rifled through her bag. Her right shoulder shuddered momentarily as she reached high to place her uniform. She blinked and rubbed the muscle quickly; maybe Finn had just dropped his head on it too roughly in the car…?

She shrugged it off, everything seemed fine.

She put on her gymwear and made her way down.

The typical assortment of heavy lifters from the men’s roster seemed to be trying to outdo each other today; the only person deadlifting who didn't seem to be competing with them was Seth, tucked into the back of the gym with his earbuds in. 

Not one to usually pay attention to any of the men these days besides Finn, Seth was a different case entirely, if only because he had seemed to purposefully isolate himself long since she had gotten there. She had heard that while she was down in NXT, he was working with a group called The Authority, doing all sorts of dirty and underhanded things to Dean and Roman, his former friends.

Not quite the kind of person she wanted to associate with, but his efforts to try and mend his relationship with Dean were at least well-intentioned...she hoped. 

She grabbed a pair of dumbbells, settling into a small area of her own and blaring her workout music.

She lifted, she lunged, hit the butterfly machine, did some leg presses, just burying herself in the upbeat pop tunes as she loosened up and got pumped for her match with Nia. A little worried voice kept popping up, concerned about Finn and begging her to check on him just once before her match, but she had to be focused on the task at hand.

He was in good hands, after all. Trustworthy hands.

After working up a good sweat, she walked over to refill her water bottle from the cooler. Having halfway filled the bottle, a few coy taps on her shoulder jolted her from her bubble. She shrieked, jerked the bottle sideways, launching most of what she had filled all over the tapping party: Seth.

He had braced himself for the response, and clamped his eyes shut. His arm, as damp as his face, hair, and shirt were, was held aback from her body, fingers coiled into a half-clamp from the shock. Bayley gasped, taking her earbuds out and stepping back away from him, holding her hands up in front of her.

“OhmygodI’msosorrySethIjustfreakedoutandI-”

Seth reached out and dropped his hand on Bayley’s left shoulder, stopping her panicked rambling apology.

“It’s fine. I called your name and you didn’t seem to hear me. I’m just hitting the showers after this anyways, so...pre-wash?” He slyly smirked.

“Uh...sure?” Bayley nervously laughed. “So...you needed something from me?”

Seth took a step forwards, leaning in. “Can we talk in a more private place?” He looked around. “People are already paying attention. I don’t want attention.”

“Sure. Out beyond the smoke area in twenty?”

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded, letting go of her shoulder and walking off out into the building.

Bayley merely filled her water bottle back up, and made her way back to the lockers. Getting situated into more relaxing attire, she then made her way out beyond the designated smoking area of the arena.

Seth was waiting, wearing a hooded sweatshirt, the hood clamped around his head, and his ring pants and sneakers, seemingly less worried about being positively identified than being heard. She gave him a wave, and he nodded back.

“So, Mr. Failed Stealth, what’s up?”

Seth sighed deeply. “Okay, so, I know we’re not friends or anything, so I don’t expect your...your help. Or advice. But you are friends with literally everybody, and I could use some friend advice.”

Bayley tried not to laugh, but her failed attempt to suppress a laugh seemed to bother him. “Sorry, but you went through all this to ask me for some friend advice?”

Seth tossed his hands up in the air. “Hey, I’m looking out for your reputation, lady! I know I got one of my own, and you don’t need people talking about crap they don’t know, ya know?” He dropped his arms back down with a gruff exhale. “Besides...there’s no way in hell anybody’s gonna overhear us talking...so...yeah. I don’t want anybody catching wind that I’m being all soft, asking for friend advice.”

Bayley mulled it over, nodding and crossing her arms after a few moments. “Okay, fine. So what do you want help with? Dean?”

Seth’s eyes widened, and he gave a sour look before turning away slightly.

“You want me to help you two be friends again?”

Seth turned back around, his shoulders slumping as a more pathetic look filled his features. “We used to be so close! We were brothers! I just…” He deeply sighed. “I was lying in bed, eyepatch over my damn eye a few weeks back, thinking of how many pirate jokes Dean would have made at my expense. But it was quiet. It’s been so damn quiet. Here I am, despite the eyepatch and the loss to Bray of all people, on top of my game. Fame, fortune, adoring fans the world over, game cover...and I’ve got nobody to celebrate with.”

“Well, I heard what happened; ya kinda brought it on yourself.” Bayley set her arms akimbo like a scolding mom as she gave him a matching look.

“I know, I know…” He scratched at the side of his head from outside the hood. “I’ve been an douchebag. A big, greedy douchebag. Go ahead and say it!”

“Nah, you said it already. Keep going.” She waved him along. 

Seth sighed. “I just...ughhhhhh!” He kicked at the ground, knocking a rock away. “I don’t know how to get through to him that I’m really sorry!”

Bayley threw her hands up in the air. “So, apologize! Show him you really wanna be his friend! It’s not that hard, man!”

“I’ve already tried that! I’ve apologized! Twice! I even gave him the chance to exact revenge, and he didn’t bother taking it! I’ve saved his ass a few times, he’s saved mine. But he still won’t…” Seth shook his head. “What’s it gonna take?”

“Maybe he just doesn’t wanna be friends with you? Not every door opens after you slam it shut.”

Seth crossed his arms and walked a half-circle in order to avoid facing Bayley directly, slouching as if trying to shrink down.

“I mean, you know Dean better than I do. But if you want some outside advice? Be yourself.”

Seth straightened out, the impact of Bayley’s words seemingly striking him as hard as a steel chair to the spine. Bayley wondered if he had even considered it.

“My true self?” He chuckled. “You and I both know I’m not a very good person.”

“Well I don’t know you too well, but I know what you did, and I see you standing here, and they seem like different people to me. I don’t think a bad person would want somebody they wronged to be friends again...well, if you truly just wanna be his friend, and you’re not looking to just use him.”

“Nope. Did that once, really kinda regretting it.”

“Then I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. Maybe it will just take longer for him to see what I see, ya know? Took me a while to forgive my friends when they all turned their backs on me.”

“Wait, your friends betrayed you?”

“Yup. Didn’t think I could really hang with them. Then I showed them I meant business. That I was tough, too. They respected me, then.”

Seth turned around, a confused look on his face. “And you’re still friends with them?”

“Sasha’s my bestie!”

“That’s...too cute.” Seth turned away. “Really naive, actually.”

“It’s what you’re asking Dean to do, isn’t it? Trust you?”

“It doesn’t sound the same to me, but…” He turned around. “I guess.”

“So...do you think Dean should be more naive?”

“No! That’s not what…” Seth growled, scratching at his neck. “I just...we had so many good times together.” Seth smiled briefly, reminiscing. “I hate to say it, but I miss shitty pizza nights with cheap beer and drunken slapfights. I bet him and Roman still have them from time-to-time…” He sighed deeply, hanging his head and kicking at the ground.

“I miss kicking ass with him. I miss his stupid jokes. I miss his drunken fits and his manic tantrums. I miss feeling like not having some sort of title is fine because I have two guys waiting back at the hotel to hang out with and talk about how we’re gonna bash some skulls in and sometimes, sometimes...Dean would have his little Super Nintendo packed, the damn thing was a million years old but every TV in every hotel ever, we could get it to work, and we’d just play the damn thing all night when we were all fucked up and depressed, and…”

He sniffled, turning around, pulling at his hood strings. “I know he could use a friend right now, too. He’s got a lot of shit happening to him right now and I mean, he’s probably got Roman, but I wanna be there for him too. It kills me to see him like this and not...not be trusted enough to be there for him. I miss that feeling. I want that trust back...”

Bayley, who had been silently listening, approached him and set a hand against his back. “Why don’t you tell him this?” She paused for a moment. “Is this a guy thing?”

“Kinda half guy thing, half me thing.”

Bayley pulled her small pocket tissue back out of her coat, handing it to Seth. “Keep’em.”

“Thanks.” He blew his nose loudly, hawking the used tissue far out into the woods. “Don’t tell anybody I’m out here crying like a girl over my feelings, okay? I’d appreciate it.”

“Your manliness will remain intact, I promise.” Bayley slapped his back roughly. “I think you’re pretty manly admitting you’re having a lot of feelings, and it’s pretty manly to come and get help from anybody, even me.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to make me feel better. You can stop.”

“No I’m not! It’s tough, especially for all you big manly men in there, to be honest with each other about your feelings. Egos and soft stuff and all that crap.”

“Ha ha ha.” Sarcasm dripped from Seth’s mouth as he blew his nose again. “We have feelings, ya know. Just more of them involve wanting to punch other dudes in the face afterwards.”

“Got ya.”

There was an awkward silence for an uncomfortable amount of time, then Seth spoke up. “...Thanks.”

“No problem. Did I help much?”

“A lot.”

“Well, I’m gonna go inside and do some interviews. I’ll catch you around?”

“Yeah.”

“...You...want my number?”

Seth looked up at her. “Wha-...why?”

“So if you want some advice next time, we don’t have to walk all the way outside the building to do so?”

“...Not a bad idea.”

Bayley grabbed an ever-present mini gel pen from her pocket and grabbed his arm, rolling up his sleeve. She wrote her phone number across his wrist, knowing it would be far easier for him to hide with his attire later.

“...you could have written it on a tissue…”

“Tissues are terrible to write on.”

“I hope the cameras don’t pick up all this glitter…”

“You wear wristbands, you dork!”

“What if I get caught out of gear?”

“...Not my problem?” Bayley shrugged.

“Man, Bayley...you’re something.” He shook his head, smirked, then reached into his pocket grabbing her arm.

“Hey!” Bayley yanked away, but to no avail. Out of Seth’s pocket came a red Sharpie, and he swiftly scribbled his own phone number on her wrist. “Dude! You could have just texted me!”

Seth chuckled. “All’s fair, man. I got this glittery ink crap on me, and now you got the Sharpie. We both wear wrist things, yeah? We can both live.” Seth took a calm breath and nodded in a knowing manner.

“You are kind of a dick.” Bayley smirked, rubbing at the Sharpie with her fingertips to no avail.

“Mmm, yeah, I hear that. So let me have a few minutes over here by myself so I can think about what you said and not be a dick to you anymore?”

“Sure.” Bayley held her hands up and walked back to the arena. Halfway back, she got a text.

_“For all his horseshit, Bray was right. You’re right. Thanks.”_

Bayley smiled. Saving the number, she sent a simple message back. 

_“You’re welcome. Say, do you like coffee or tea?”_


	8. Cast-Off IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proceeding their divine intervention, Brother Nero begins to notice that, perhaps, things haven't gone quite as they had invoked.

Brother Nero had been tasked with safeguarding Brother Balor, and he thanked the Seven Deities that the task itself had gone rather lightly.

After returning from scrawling sigils meticulously with all the colors of chalk that he could find on his person, Brother Moore had kindly slid Brother Balor back to his care.

The air around Brother Balor seemed less acerbic now that Brother Nero had finished his sealing glyphs around the building, and Brother Balor seemed less terrified and more calm. Almost too calm in comparison to before, but perhaps the divine intervention had fully eased his nerves.

He gave the minimal amount of notice to the others in the locker room, save for Braun Strowman, whom he had bumped into; he grinned wickedly and greeted him before apologizing in a clear and concise tone before returning to Brother Nero’s side.

Upon encountering Dean, Brother Balor draped a towel over his head, suggesting ‘crawling into the darkness for a rest would do him some good’, to which Dean quit his protesting of the action and simply agreed. 

Brother Nero was less than amused, but silently observant. He hadn’t spent a long time really getting to know The Irishman, so he was unsure if this was how he typically was. He was usually generalized as “jovial”, and this was rather “jovial, if a bit tired”, so given what he knew for certain, it didn’t seem too far off.

As Brother Nero led Brother Balor to the gym, the two spotted Brock Lesnar and his advocate, Paul Heyman. Brother Balor eyed the Universal Title around the Beast Incarnate’s waist. The larger man seemed oblivious to the glare, but his advocate was not nearly as imperceptive. 

“Ah, Finn Balor, I see you still have your eyes on my client’s title; shame you had to lose your chance yet again. Seems as though that is clearly your fate; touch it once, and never touch it again.”

A look halfway between a grimace and manic delight set into his features. “What d’ya know about fate…? Besides t’at it’s fated fer ‘im’nd I t’be t’is close in t’ring, and when t’at happens, well, I never dropped th’title t’no-one, did I?” Brother Balor chuckled, moving closer to Brother Nero’s side.

“Come, let us ease tensions with some warm-ups…” Brother Nero wrapped his arm around Brother Balor’s shoulders, leading him into the gym.

Brother Balor warily eyed the deadlifting crew as they walked in, but was quickly distracted with Brother Nero directing his energy into dueling ab crunches. After a while, however, Brother Balor had spotted Brock Lesnar in the group and became incensed. 

Brother Nero sighed; he had no idea how obsessed Brother Balor was with this title. This was certainly a promising development, should he prove himself capable of doing so. He followed the Irishman over to the small crowd, where he curiously studied the weights being lifted.

Braun Strowman was showing off his inhuman strength, deadlifting the weight of Brothers Nero and Balor put together and then some at 600 pounds. He didn’t seem to even break much of a sweat at the feat, and Brother Balor stared quizzically at the sight. Brock was commiserating with Big Show, who was jeering at Braun. Braun merely rolled his eyes and easily lifted the weight clear above his head once more, declaring he could do it until they had to leave the arena.

A few men complained, but decided against outrightly demanding that he not. Brother Nero sighed, walking forwards into the empty space around the Monster.

“Pardon, Brother Adam, but a few of us would like to get a short usage of the deadlift bar.”

“Pardon me, tough guy, but I’m here now, and you’ll all get a turn when I’m ready to give you one.”

“Perhaps...a wager is in order. If we can pass your challenge, we can have our turns?”

The Monster mulled it over, then nodded. “Fine!” He looked around at the crowd, grinning when he spotted Brother Balor. “You! Scrawny one!” Brother Balor looked around, then poked himself in the chest. “Yeah, you! Get over here!”

Brother Balor slunk through the crowd, standing next to Brother Nero as Braun chuckled. “If you can deadlift my bodyweight, everybody gets their turn. Got it, pipsqueak?”

“Loud’n’clear.”

Braun adjusted the weights down as the crowd seemed to be less than excited for the outcome. Once the bar was set, Finn grabbed a belt and gently strapped it on, an air of care and attention that simply wasn't needed at the situation. Perhaps he was in mental preparation for the task…?

Brother Nero crossed his arms and laser-focused his gaze on the Irishman, waiting cautiously, should his body buckle under the weight. With intense focus and proper form, Brother Balor reached down and gave the barbell and all its weight a quick check. After assessing it, he then gave a loud grunt and began the mighty task. 

Wobbly at first, he summoned the willpower and strength to lift it mid-waist, then deftly hoisted it above his head to a thunderous wall of astonished calls from the crowd. He quickly dropped it, then eyed the crowd, lingering on Brock and smirking.

Braun eyes widened in surprise. “Well well, scrawny little Finn...I'm impressed. Fine. You get your time with the deadlifts. BUT I'M NOT FINISHED WITH THEM, GOT IT?”

Braun marched off, leaving the group to squabble over who went first. 

The shadows seemed to shift across the wall out of the corners of Brother Nero’s sight. Brother Balor’s seemed wider, longer, despite the luminescence around them. 

For a moment, everything felt suffocating to Brother Nero, but the feeling passed as they left the gym.

...Surely this was just a side-effect.

“Brother Balor…?”

He looked over at Brother Nero, stretching his arms. “Yeh?”

“How is your vessel coping with such an exigent display?”

He smirked. “My vessel, eh? My vessel...handl’d t’at well, ya t’ink?”

Brother Nero slipped his phone out of his pocket, quickly pulling up his text message box for Broken Matt.

_“...We should be wary. Brother Balor seems...not as I have heard him to be. Shall we invoke the Deities again?”_

Several moments passed. 

_“This is most GRIEVOUS. No, we have not the time. So long as he remains relatively pacifistic, we can tolerate it. But we must take him to the Compound as swiftly as possible.”_

_“Agreed. After the match. But for now...have him join us in the arena, where we can keep a keen eye or four on him?”_

_“BRILLIANT! Make way to the catering lounge, Brother Nero, and we shall fuel our collective vessels for the GREAT WAR tonight.”_

\-----

The hours seemed to sail by, and the Brothers Hardy kept a vigilant watch over Brother Balor. Brother Nero kept a steady gaze over the walls; the shadows seemed to flicker about of their own volition when Brother Balor was not in motion, but whether or not it was just an illusion based solely in paranoia was to be further investigated. Broken Matt kept more of an observation of Brother Balor himself; having voraciously picked two whole roast chickens clean, downed four twice-baked potatoes, and vigorously doused every last item in malt vinegar and butter, he wondered where the Irishman packed all of it away. 

Brother Balor dressed in his ring attire, seemingly finding comfort in the rituals and taking his time, despite not even having a match tonight. Brother Nero watched on, keeping his attention on the Irishman...or whatever it was driving him along.

“You can wear whatever attire you’d like while at the announcement table, Brother Balor.” Brother Nero commented.

“T’ese’re mine...and comfy.” Brother Balor hissed back.

“As you desire, Brother Balor.”

Broken Matt sauntered in, laughing happily. “DELIGHTFUL! You are both prepared for the GREAT WAR ahead!”

“Brother Balor will be sitting with the announcers, observing and imparting wisdom as we conquer the Good Brothers.”

“Nevertheless, should things become PRECARIOUS as I suspect they shall,” Broken Matt’s eyes darted to Brother Balor almost imperceptibly as a cue to Brother Nero, “then we shall have all the cards face-up and known to us. The Seven Deities are with us as we compete, YEEEEEEES~”

The trio straightened themselves out, then departed the locker room.

“Nice getup, nerds.” Gallows scooted up around them from behind, mocking their attire. 

“Ready, nerds?” Anderson bellowed from down the hallway, Two Sweet-ing Gallows as he approached.

“We are prepared for BATTLE, but the real question is, are you?”

\-----

The nostalgic pop of the crowd hit the air, and the Brothers Hardy made their way down the ramp steadily with Brother Balor in tow behind and between them, not a single gesture made. The ring announcer touched her ear to fiddle with the earpiece, getting new information.

“The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied by Finn Balor, and weighing in at a combined weight of 461 pou-”

Broken Matt climbed to the apron and held his hand up to the ring announcer, who stopped speaking and gave him a look.

“The microphone, if you will.” He approached the woman, hand outstretched. She handed the mic over to Broken Matt, who quickly turned to face the crowd behind them.

“SALUTATIONS, PITTSBURGH!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, with many in the stands chanting “DELETE~”, as they had been doing since their surprise arrival at Wrestlemania.

“My brother, the nefarious Brother Nero, and I have decided that the time has arrived to cast adrift the QUIXOTIC aura around us, and to make a new PROCLAMATION to the rest of the WWE Universe!”

The crowd cheered as Broken Matt and Brother Nero slid into the ring, joining to stoic Brother Balor. The crowd was awash in “DELETE~” chants as Broken Matt laughed affectedly and stretched his arms out, soaking in the crowd’s ecstatic vibrations.

“WONDERFUL! Pittsburgh, you are DELIGHTFUL! Now, if you would, give me a moment of your time…”

The crowd lulled, letting Broken Matt speak.

“Brother Nero and I have RECONVENED with this MAWKISH ruse, I will admeet, in a wave of whimsy fueled by many of our long-time patrons, however, we have always been preparing for our illustrious return to our Expedition of Gold.”

Most of the crowd erupted in elation for what felt like a solid minute. Brother Nero looked to Brother Balor, and a strange look had overtaken his features; something quizzical, something longing, something purely mollified in opposition to just a few hours ago. Even the shadows from the bright lights seemed still and unwavering to him as Broken Matt continued speaking.

“We are here to RECLAIM our titles from the NEFARIOUS brutes who DEFILED our vessels! And then, we shall take all the remaining titles for the glory of the Hardy name! Now, who out there is behind us?”

The crowd rallied, with “DELETE” chants and swinging arms coming from nearly everyone in attendance.

“Tonight is merely a prelude, tonight is a humbling of the so-called ‘Good Brothers’, and all tag teams should take note of this advent in the Great War!”

Broken Matt turned to Brother Balor. “And as for you…” The Irishman tensed as Broken Matt’s tone dropped low, taking a more alert stance as he turned to face him. “You are cordially invited to recline around the Squared Circle and observe our BATTLE as well.”

Brother Balor slapped Broken Matt’s shoulder roughly, grinning wildly, then slunk out of the ring to the announcement table, sitting in a chair that had been fetched for him by Booker T.

“C’mon over, Finn! Good to have ya!” Booker smiled brightly, and Brother Balor merely nodded and took a seat, fiddling mystifiedly with a pair of announcing headphones. Broken Matt approached the ring announcer again.

“Here you go, my dear. Announce our fellow COMBATANTS!”

She cautiously took the mic back from Broken Matt, clearing her throat and giving the cue for Gallows and Anderson’s music to be played.


	9. Hypnagogia II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbeknownst to the Brothers Hardy, they had unwittingly invited the wrong kind of guest to their battle, and he certainly doesn't intend to leave.

“Well, we were totally not expecting to have Finn Balor here on Commentary tonight, but here he is!”

Corey Graves gestured to the cameraman, who was getting into position for a wide shot to capture all four men at the table.

“Hi.” Balor smiled, having finally gotten the headset on and correctly sitting on his head. He gave a quick salute to the camera as Gallows and Anderson walked down the ramp, then gleefully greeted the fans on the barricades that he could reach while still wearing the headphones.

The bell rang, and Broken Matt snapped his jaws at Gallows, ready to pounce. A tingle rolled up Balor’s spine; the sound was lost in the cheers of the crowd and the headphones, but the sight...the sight was pleasing. They would devour these fools, surely.

A hint of familiarity hit him as he stared at the two men facing his allies; something about them reminded him of his travels abroad. ...It was best not thought of aloud with the commentary.

“Matt Hardy with the side-headlock on Gallows to start, really grinding the forearm there…” Michael was a good caller, at least.

“Finn, Finn, quick question. Are you formally aligned with the Hardy Boys in their newly-declared ‘Expedition of Gold’?” Corey looked Balor directly in the eyes and Balor gazed back, trying to hide his confusion.

“Ah, t’is is t’first time I’ve heard’ve t’eir plan. But, t’ey’re warriors; strong, charismatic, victorious. If t’ey win tonight, well, we might have t’talk more about t’is...Expedition.” Balor grinned widely.

“Matt with another applied side headlock; he just won't let go of Gallows…”

Balor turned his attention to the ring, ignoring Booker’s query entirely. “Ah...lovely offense. Keep’em from headbuttin’n’bitin’. Can still kick though.”

“Ever think about doing commentary, Finn? I could use a good replacement for Byron.”

“Nah. Love fightin’ too much.”

“Fair enough.”

Broken Matt dragged Gallows over to the Broken Hardys’ corner, giving Brother Nero a tag and a signal to hop up to the top rope, where he leapt off and crossbody-tackled Gallows out of Broken Matt’s grasp.

“What a hit!”

“Gallows’ll be seeing stars after that!” Booker chuckled.

“The Hardys dominating the start of this match, isolating Gallows in the corner like the veterans they are. Karl Anderson waiting for the opportunity to tag in as Jeff Hardy-”

“Ah, ah, ah…” Balor waggled his finger, cutting Corey off. “Brot’er Nero.”

“Is that what he’s going by in that new bizarre getup?”

“You bet. Fits’em.”

“What a weird name. Wonder where he got it from.”

“Nero, you know, Michael! Like the emperor!”

“What emperor, Corey?”

“Ain’t that the cat that played his fiddle on a hill while his kingdom burned?”

Balor grinned. What a memory.

“Yup, that’s the one.” Corey turned to Balor. “Does Matt have a new name too?”

“Nah, still Matt. But ‘Broken Matt’.”

“We’ll make notes of that. Thank you, Finn.” Michael smiled. “A Big Boot by Gallows to M-ah, Broken Matt, and only seemed to enrage the elder Hardy brother. He’s gotten back to his feet fairly quickly and, ooh, back into the side-headlock.”

“He’s probably trying to loosen that neck up to capitalize on the impact of any incoming Twist of Fate.”

“Ah, good observation, Corey.”

“Hey Finn, you getting any flashbacks to your times in Japan, with Gallows and Anderson?”

“Nah, Booker. Japan was much diff’rent alt’get’er. More shadows outside t’ring. Not many tag teams.” Balor looked around. “One t’ing I hate about t’is place...too bright.”

“Just the one, huh?”

“T’at I know off t’top of my’ead, yeah.”

“Ooh, a few forearm shots to the chest by Gallows, and a headlock to drag Broken Matt back to the Good Brothers’ corner. Quick tag made, and a 2-on-1 here; first offense from them so far.”

Finn made a face. “Not sure when bitin’ went outta style...but he should bring it back.”

“Who?”

“Broken Matt.” Balor grinned. “He seems t’like bitin’.”

“Indeed he does, as he chomps at the air in the direction of the Good Brothers.”

“There’s a screw loose in t’at man, fer sure. ‘Broken’ is definitely how I’d describe’em. Good on’em for takin’ it on himself.”

Balor watched the match once more; Broken Matt had broken free of the Good Brothers’ corner, and had Anderson in a side-headlock as he walked the man over to the waiting Brother Nero. A quick tag and Broken Matt shifted his stance, holding Anderson’s arm out as Brother Nero ascended the ropes and dropped an elbow onto it.

Broken Matt slipped out, leaving Brother Nero to apply a wristlock on Anderson, before giving the damaged arm a small shake for good measure.

...The brothers spoke about him as if he were some sort of...disease. On one hand, Balor wanted nothing to do with them. But they promised power, to reclaim it. Take by all means necessary. Left a delicious taste in his mouth, made him want more. And the crowds wanted it just as much as he did.

Brother Nero and Broken Matt had Anderson trapped in their corner, and with no hesitation, Brother Nero charged and took Gallows out on the other side of the ring as Broken Matt knelt in front of Anderson. With great speed and skill, Brother Nero charged back to his own corner, launching himself off of Broken Matt, crashing gracefully into Anderson’s body.

Ah, what a sight. Brother Nero was highly sensitive to his presence; he had had to keep small and quiet all day. Up with these in their spectator booth, however, everyone seemed completely unaware.

“And speaking of David and Goliath scenarios; we got Bayley and Nia Jax tonight. What a mis-match!”

...oh yes, the girl. The girl meant well, oh did she mean well, but she too seemed incredibly unaware. Perhaps too unaware, innately dismissing his presence and his effects.

Her insufferable levels of serenity and well-wishing were...well, more than satiating.

“Y’don't give’er th’credit she deserves. She's t’face yer champion. People simply don't become t’top contender bein’ weak.”

Broken Matt tagged back in and seized the back of Anderson’s bald head, running him over to the turnbuckle, smashing his face into it. The crowd whipped itself into a frenzy at the sight of Broken Matt rapidly repeating the action, chanting “DELETE” as if it were a mantra of violence. He truly had a cult core of followers who admired his cruelty, and Balor was quick to point this notion out to the slumbering little recesses in the back of his mind.

_Let go of t’notion t’at anybody here would ever stop lovin’ ya if y’became like t’Hardy Brot’ers. Like I said before._

Humans craved violence; swallowed it down and exhaled joy in its wake. Balor could comprehend the admiration of the masses towards the brothers…

A loud sound broke Balor’s train of thought; he swiveled his chair around to spot The Revival making their way out from the back.

“Here comes trouble! Broken Matt and Brother Nero have turned their attentions to the ramp; The Revival have arrived!”

...how rude. Balor stood up and began to approach them, only to have his head snapped back by the headphones. He gingerly took the headphones off, then cut them off as they made their way down the ramp.

“Broken Matt’s lost focus, and Anderson has capitalized with a Big Boot to the chest! Broken Matt is down! Can he get the pin? No, but that was close with the near-fall…”

“Hey Finn, what’s up? C’mon back here!” Booker offered the discarded headphones back to Balor, but he merely ignored them.

“And where do y’t’ink yer goin’?”

“Out of our way, Balor!” Dash waved him aside.

“T’is is not yer match, boys.”

“Brother Balor, stand down!” Brother Nero bellowed, drawing Balor’s attention.

“Finish yer fight, Brot’er Nero!” Balor planted his feet firmly against the ground, popping the collar of his coat as he puffed himself up, let his shadow spread out a touch.

“You lookin’ to get hurt, Balor?” Wilder smirked.

“Are you?” Balor grinned widely back.

Dash jolted forwards, swinging at Balor. The Demon grabbed his arm and whipped him into the nearby barricade.

“Whoa, we’ve got two brawls going now, Michael!”

“Finn’s on the attack for Team Hardy! Dash just bounced off that barricade!” Michael could barely contain his excitement.

“Broken Matt must have gotten the message that Finn’s got The Revival, because he's back in focus out there with that sidestepping of Anderson’s clothesline an-OH! Side Effect off the bounce back off the ropes from Anderson! Brutal!” Corey became whipped up in the frenzy as well, the crowd thundered along with them.

“Finn just turned a back attack from Wilder into a Pele Kick to down the other half of The Revival. Dash is still down; what a mess the ramp is becoming!”

“These guys are throwing down! Get’em, Finn!” Booker chuckled.

“Broken Matt’s made the tag, Brother Nero is ascending the ropes. Anderson’s still grounded and-OH! Broken Matt’s charged and sent Gallows to the outside mats, and he’s going over to assure the job is done.” 

“Dash is back up, and Balor’s right on him, grabbing that right arm and putting him in a wristlock. Wilder’s going for an assist...ah! Back kick to the gut keeps him in check.”

“Brother Nero is giving the signal for the Swanton Bomb; there he goes! BAM! Full connection! Here’s the pin!”

The crowd chanted in unison with the taps from the referee:

_ONE! TWO! THREE!!!_

The pop of excitement from the crowd was deafening, but the wave of elation was not enough to slake Balor’s thirst.

There was a line between pleasure and pain, that half-measure of ecstasy that was most desirable to draw out and consume. Neither man had truly suffered enough at Balor’s hands to be quite at that point. 

While he had the chance, it was the perfect opportunity to get a taste.

He kicked the back of Dash’s knee, anchoring his arm in place to force Dash’s body to bend painfully as it chose which direction to go in. Wilder attempted to stop Balor, and Balor simply responded by whipping Dash into Wilder.

“Brutality at the hands of Finn Balor, a level that we’ve never seen before…” Corey sounded somewhere between shocked and terrified. “The Revival are gonna need some reviving of their own after this assault…”

“The Good Brothers are now hobbling up to The Revival’s aid, and they’re being tailed by the Hardy Boyz!” Michael white-knuckled his chair as he pivoted to focus on the action.

“Looks like we're about to witness what JR loves to call a ‘slobberknocker’ up here on the ramp…” Corey visually focused himself to keep the calls going.

“Balor’s got Wilder pinned under his one foot, and Dash in an armbar on the other side; how’s this kid doing it?”

“Raw power previously unseen by Finn Balor as he takes The Revival on all by himself…”

“You think he called The Demon up a little early today, Michael?” Corey looked over to his nervous counterpart.

Balor looked over and spotted Gallows and Anderson half-marching up the ramp, a look in their features that struck an old memory in the back of his brain.

_They knew._

Balor’s eyes opened wide, and he dropped Dash from the armbar, began walking backwards and away from Wilder. Broken Matt and Brother Nero seemed to briefly communicate with Gallows and Anderson before moving past them, rapidly charging Balor.

“This has devolved into absolute chaos here on the ramp!”

“Looks like the Hardys and Gallows and Anderson have banded together to stop this madness; Finn’s booking it backstage!”

“That boy's in trouble once them Hardys get their hands on’em.” Booker nodded his head as he hummed an affirming tone to his statement.

\-----

Through the back halls and shadows Balor dashed, knowing if he were ensnared by their power, it was the end for him. He clamored for the shade of an unoccupied and unlocked room, finally finding one and slithering inside.

He took a deep breath, relaxing in the absolute darkness. He felt a panicked clawing in the deep recesses of his subconscious; that would have to wait.

He heard footsteps, two pairs dashing about, one walking slowly.

“Brother Tyler! Have you seen Brother Balor come this way?”

“Uh..you mean Finn? No. I gotta get going.”

“May you find your endeavor with Brother Jon most AVARICIOUS.”

There was an air of tension for too many moments before one of the pairs of feet scampered off.

“Brother Nero, this is CATASTROPHIC!”

“It's certainly non-felicitous, to say the least. Have the Seven Deities forsaken us?”

“They could not have, for we were victorious in our battle! Perhaps...perhaps our invocation was not nearly as pleasing to them as we would have wished.”

“Or perhaps...their aegis has severed his essence from his body entirely, leaving his vessel BROKEN.”

“Most certainly negative, Brother Nero! Nothing this nefarious in nature could have slipped past our keen senses so flawlessly for such a duration! You, Brother Nero converse with Brothers Chad and Andrew; I believe they will be more receptive to our conversing at this time. I will continue scouring the premeeses for Brother Balor.”

One pair of feet marched off, followed by the other. Balor waited silently, then departed in the shadows.


	10. Inheritance II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected, and rather unwanted, memento from an unexpected and rather unwanted individual sets Dean into a fury. A hasty pursuit leads the two into a long conversation that may prove fruitful.

_It had to be this shirt._

Old and grey, frayed slightly, smelling faintly of 3am post-gym soap bars and ridiculously expensive conditioner made specifically for god-awfully unmanageable curly hair.

They were scents that Dean literally couldn't scrub from his mind. Even from years of not being worn, the scent still seemed to linger; Seth had long stopped using the same soap bar, probably on Steph’s command at some point.

Not that it honestly mattered to Dean, or that he was paying attention. He had just, for some reason, likened the new scent to the sections of his brain linked to nausea and anger. It was like some bitch coming and marking a puppy with its tongue, making its mother reject it.

...the strange coincidence, now, was the unbearably warm and comforting reaction he had to the damn shirt, despite knowing where it came from.

That son of a bitch was looking to get punched, wasn't he? Sneaking in here while he was washing his face, casually hanging up this old SHIELD shirt to curry favor with him, after he told him to fuck off multiple times…

Somebody wanted to be punched in the face, clearly.

Dean snatched the shirt from its perch, slung it over his shoulder, then marched out in search of that unbearably unrelenting assclown.

He marched down the halls, shirt ends bouncing in time with every stamp reverberating through him. A cameraman had spotted him and began to follow him at a safe distance, and eventually Dean could hear a pair of shoes hurriedly moving nearby.

“Ah! Brother Jon!”

Dean growled at Broken Matt. “Not this shi-...what do you want? I'm busy.”

“Have you, perchance, seen Brother Balor recently?” 

“No, now get going.” Dean took a few steps, then stopped. “Have you seen Seth?”

“Brother Tyler was perusing the back halls in the hopes of encountering you, I believe.”

“...you mean Seth, right?”

“AFFIRMATIVE, Brother J-”

Dean held his hand up, grimacing. “You can cut the fancy crap, okay? Just...okay. Seth is looking for me, huh? Well, he's gonna wish he didn’t…” Dean sneered. “thanks.” Dean continued down the way that Broken Matt had emerged from, the cameraman behind him being stopped and drawn away by the elder Hardy.

\-----

It didn’t take long to spot the asshole jaunting around, getting ready for the match. Dean fumed, doing his best to sneak attack the inattentive Rollins while wearing his boots.

Colliding with the younger man, Dean sent the two of them tumbling to the floor of the hallway, Seth howling in shock and quickly turning around to assess the situation.

“Whoa, hey-”

Dean lunged, taking a swing at Seth as the other man held up his arms in defense.

“You think you're funny, huh? I SAID FUCK OFF!”

Seth seized Dean’s shoulders and slid out from under the lanky man, looking around tensely.

“Can we take this somewhere else?”

“You want a private ass-whupping? Fine.” Dean unclenched his fists, holding his hands up in surrender as Seth shuffled them both towards an empty room.

Down a hallway, the cameraman from before called out to Dean, panicking Seth. “Shi-...new plan…”

“Plan?” Dean growled, staring at Seth as the latter dragged the former into a dark, vacant room, slamming the door shut. Dean saw his opportunity, once Seth had locked the door, to grab and toss him headlong into the depths of the room beyond before turning the lights on.

Both men squinted as the light displayed a vacant lounge room with an adjacent, empty bathroom.

“The hell did you throw me for, Ambrose?” Seth groaned as he uncrumpled himself from the gap between the couch and the coffee table.

Dean ripped the shirt from his shoulder, shaking it in Seth’s direction angrily. “Is this some kind of joke to you, huh?” He marched over as Seth crawled back on all fours, stopping only when he hit the wall. “Huh?! SPEAK UP!”

“NO!” Seth exhaled sharply. “No, it's not a joke. I wanted you to have it.”

“Why, you think I needed a fucking reminder?”

“No, I felt I didn't deserve keeping it.”

Dean straightened his posture out slightly, no longer looming over the still-sitting Rollins.

“Damn right you don't. This was me and my brothers. You ain't my brother no more; you gave that up, for what? Money? Glory? A shot at Stephanie when Triple H wasn't looking? You don't have to tell me, I don't care. If I was a less loyal kinda guy, maybe I woulda stabbed you and Roman in the back for all three, myself, but I didn't. Because the three of us, we meant something to me. Clearly not as much for you, though.”

Dean tossed the shirt in Seth’s face. “Keep it; smells like a dead rat in a jock strap anyways.”

“Dean…” Seth sighed, removing the shirt from his face and grabbing Dean’s arm; the hand was quickly shook aside angrily, but Seth reapplied, this time meeting no resistance. “Dean, listen, okay? I know you got a lot of crap on your plate. Your dad’s sick, Miz is tossing you around, you gotta deal with me...but there’s one thing on that list that's bigger than the others, and it ain’t me. You and I can both agree; Roman ain't here to save your ass from Miz and them, and you need somebody on your side. Now I thought long and hard about our chat earlier, okay? But I wouldn't forgive myself if I just stood by and let you toss yourself at them without me. So...just let me be there to help you. I know you can't trust me, and you are well within your right not to, but I'll continue to insist that I am until you’re being carted out on a gurney. And even then I'll be right there in the hospital while Roman's out title chasing. I got all the time in the world to wait for you to trust me, or at least tolerate my helping hand.”

Seth was impressed that Dean had let him ramble on for as long as he did, but he had truly looked to be mulling it all over as he tended to do.

“Ya know, I hate to admit it, but I really wanna be able to trust every word coming out of your slimy little cakehole, I do. You're right; I certainly could use an extra set of hands with Miz and his crew, and you are available. And we've always worked real well together…” Seth smiled warmly, shaking his head in agreement. Dean’s expression soured, and he finally shook Seth’s hand away. “buuuuuuuut, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, and I'm no Braun Strowman, so I can't toss ya very far.”

“No strings attached, Dean. That I will promise you. Just two guys looking to whip the same guy’s smug ass around the ring.”

“Then it's over?”

“Only if you want it to be. Your choice.”

“Still not sold, Rollins.”

“Fair enough. But I'll be down there tonight looking to kick that perfect smile of Miz’s out of whack, and you and I can work together to do that if you want.”

Dean smiled warmly. “Mmm, kicking Miz’s teeth out sounds great. That’s quite the worthy cause.”

Seth held his hand out for a shake. “So you wanna work together on this?”

Dean eyed Seth’s hand warily, thinking it over. Seth put on a pathetic look, showcasing his bright, warm eyes.

“Aw man, don't do that...dammit…” Dean groaned, rolling his eyes and neck and slumping slightly in defeat. “Fiiiiine. I sold my soul years ago, what’s one more deal with the devil now?” Dean gripped Seth’s hand, shaking weakly.

A shuffle rang out from the bathroom doorway, drawing their attention. Renee Young’s eyes widened in fear as she clung to her cameraman, his tape continuing to roll.

Dean scowled, tossing Seth’s hand away and moving towards them. “Hey, what the hell?”

“Do you two always hide in bathrooms and spy on people?!” Seth hissed.

“Nope, just happened to be in here. But enough about me-” Renee stood up, prompting the cameraman to follow her. She then excitedly wedged herself between Seth and Dean, waving the mic between the two of them. “is this the rekindling of an old friendship?”

Seth leaned in, beating Dean to the punch. “You were spying on us, you should've heard. One time deal; we whip the collective asses of the Miztourage, and then we go back to business as usual.”

Seth leaned back and Dean grabbed the mic, yanking it to his face. “Yeah, so don't go getting your fangirl and fanboy hats on, kids; this ain’t a reunion, this is just business, Renee.” Periodic looks of intensity between Renee, Seth, and the camera itself at precise moments emphasized his statement, leaving the room silent as Renee lightly tugged her microphone from his hands and turned to solemnly face the camera.

“Well, you heard it here first...Seth and Dean, committed to one single bout as allies against the onslaught that has haunted them both for weeks. Back to you guys down at ringside.”

She gave the signal to cut, then smiled at the both of them. Seth fiddled around with his wristband as Dean all-too-calmly drew Renee aside, blocking her off from the cameraman. Renee shooed the cameraman off as he attempted to come near.

“Now I don't know what possessed you to just sit there and tape our private conversation, but I really don't appreciate it.”

“I'm sorry, I'm just doing my job Dean, you know that.”

“Well, you've caught me in a pretty crap mood, okay? So I'd advise you to back off or it's gonna get bad for either one or both of ya, okay?”

“Don't tell me what to do, and don't threaten me. The rumor mill ain't sounding so good for you, ya know, and threatening members of staff with physical violence for doing their jobs isn't gonna sound great either, got it tough guy?”

Dean sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “...Yeah, sorry. I'm just…”

“I heard the thing about your dad there; must be tough.”

“I'm taking it worse than I thought I would. We’re not very close.”

“Yeah, that stuff just sorta creeps up on ya, doesn't it?” Renee crossed her arms. “A lot of other things can creep up on you too, so...keep your nose clean, and the rest of yourself, and this little conversation will certainly stay between us, okay?”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Maybe. I'm just saying, don't give Vince a reason to look into things that may or may not have come to his attention. Miz is terribly right; I kinda dig having a guy like you around. So…”

Seth cleared his throat, looking up from his phone as Renee and Dean looked over. Dean had to wonder where Seth had that thing wedged, but promptly decided he wouldn't ask. “Hey Renee, you looking for a scoop?” 

Renee’s semi-glum demeanor lit up. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I saw Bayley bouncing around the back locker area earlier. Looked like she was looking for somebody to talk to about her match tonight against Nia. You might be able to beat another camera crew to her if you run.” Seth winked.

Renee gestured to her cameraman, and the two quickly left the room, leaving Dean and Seth truly alone.

Dean eyed Seth’s wrist, noting how...glittery it looked. “The hell is wrong with your wrist?”

Seth looked over. “It’s fine.”

“Ooh, you got a phone number, doncha?” Dean grinned childishly, swooping in as Seth attempted to tie his wristband back on again. “Is it Dana’s? I know you like’em tough…”

“No, it's not Dana’s number…”

“Ooh, you messing around with Alexa? Five feet of fury, indeed~” Dean winked and elbowed Seth in the ribs playfully.

“It’s Bayley’s, okay? Geez…”

Dean leaned back. “Whoa, you're messing around with Bayley? Dude, Finn will double foot stomp you a big, shiny chest cavity if you're trying to get with her…”

Seth growled. “I’m not trying to ‘get with Bayley’...” He rolled his eyes. “...I just asked her for something. Besides, thanks to her, Renee is out of our hair. But I never told you that.”

Dean held his hands up and leaned back. “Hey, no problem. I don't care about your love life or lack thereof, anyways.”

Seth shook his head and sighed. “Whatever, dude. We need a plan, can we talk about a plan for kicking Miz’s ass?”

“Whatever you need to avoid talking about your tissue and lotion hotel parties.”

“Dean,” Seth glared. “focus for half a second on something besides banging every chick on the roster...and Renee.”

“Whoa, hey, don't turn this back on me!”

Seth smirked. “Don't like it much, huh?”

“Dude.”

“So, plan?”

“Fine, I'll get a chair, you do your kick-punch-Pedigree thing, we take em down.”

“I think we need a better plan.”

Dean groaned and sat down on the floor, prompting Seth to join him while he crossed his arms and pouted.

“Alright, Mr. Architect, Mr. Kingslayer, lay it on me…”


	11. Hypnagogia III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While skulking around the back areas, Balor comes upon a broadcast from the ring from a man he finds...less than palatable.

“...and certainly not for Finn Balor.”

How dare that worm say his name...ever. so. flippantly.

Balor turned on his heel, staring dead straight into the monitor he had passed by; his next target was nowhere to be found, but it sounded like one was presenting itself to him like an overturned dog, whether Bray knew he was overturned or not.

This false prophet had been harassing both he and Finn for weeks now, hoping to provoke Finn into letting Balor play. Unfortunately for Bray, Balor was now nice and unhindered, ready to play with this foolish child all over the building.

The swamp man knew his hoodoo, but nothing was quite as potent as Balor when it came to raw power. Bray could cripple, deceive, dishearten with fallacies, but to kill? He was incapable. Balor had his curses tenfold, but he could kill. The only real thing that held the Demon back was Finn’s sheer force of will. With that...on hold...well, Bray was rightly fucked, wasn't he?

“The truth is that no mortal man can just escape the darkness; that's just the way it is!”

Certainly this was true. Finn could never truly escape the Demon, no. He had wound every loose tendril into this fleshy little body of his, and trying to pry the Demon away would do little more than banish the spirit and make the poor boy bleed out. The Hardys certainly seemed to understand this well, but they foolishly believed that he could be controlled, shackled, domesticated like some feral mongrel they found in a ditch somewhere.

If they wanted him to be placated, to be at peace within the human they called Finn, blood would have to run eventually. Even if it had to be Finn’s own blood.

“I mean, look at you. You’re all...held down by Humanity’s shackles.”

Relatable.

“Doing everything you can to cope with all this...pain...I mean, look at you, you're pitiful.”

The crowd seemed annoyed by Bray’s accusation.

**“DO YOU HEAR ME, PITTSBURGH? I SAID YOU'RE PITIFUL!”**

The crowd violently reacted, and Balor sneered. Those were his admirers. They were not pitiful at all.

“You try to hide behind your sins, and be something that you are not, become something that you can never be, but you can't hide from me, because **I. SEE. YOU.** Because I am Bray Wyatt, and **I. AM. EVERYWHERE.** ”

Balor questioned the validity of his claim, but wondered where this swamp shaman was going with this.

“I'm right there when the honest man tries to justify stealing. And I'm right there, hiding in the shadows, when you all want to stand with pride, and proclaim yourselves part of the Balor Club.”

Oh, **that** was where this fool was going.

“It's as if your blind illusions led you to believe that you can just vicariously live through Finn Balor. You've been infected with the sickness of hope, that makes you think that, one day, your life can be special!”

...well, certainly he had a point. Most could never do what he could push Finn to do, to tolerate, to exude. Most mortals were far too weak to manage any of it. But certainly there were many of his admirers who could do some special things of their own...and certainly hope was not the worst thing to have. In fact, watching hopes become crushed was fairly satisfying, particularly if they had slighted Balor at some point. 

But for his admirers to hope of a better tomorrow through him...well, that sort of thing warmed the insides of his fleshy shell, and brought a sense of calm to Finn.

“You see this...ordinary man, Finn Balor, and you see him do these extraordinary things. You watch him fall, and you **FEEL** the heat of his pain. And then you foolishly rejoice as he **RISES THROUGH THE ASHES!** But not me, man! Not me! I see Finn Balor for what _he truly is._ ”

Balor felt a shudder; was this shaman capable of sensing him as well? Was he to expose his existence to the world in front of all these people, those cameras? Finn didn't need this...but the stage was too far away to just jump to.

...but at this point, would dragging this soothsayer into the darkness simply make it worse for Finn? He had to keep him safe and secure, that was paramount. No telling what anybody would do if they had this man's words confirmed…

“The putrid shell of a man that never was.”

Balor could feel Finn squirming in the back of his mind, fuming and seething. Balor’s own negative feelings did little more than fan the flames that stoked the boiling-over of emotions. 

“Finn Balor exists off of borrowed time, just like every one of you, off of yesterday’s dreams and tomorrow’s promises, yes. But yet, you speak with all this voiceless arrogance!”

Balor wasn't sure if he was forcing his legs to fire him down the hallways, risking slipping, tripping, and skidding into something...or if it was Finn doing so instinctively. But everything burned in him in an unholy aura of flames and shadows, tendrils sinking into the walls and yanking him forwards.

It was one thing for Balor himself to sit and lament his poor rankings amongst the shuffle; he had once been king of not just demons, but of mortal men in their rings of combat. To have become relegated to these paltry offerings of so-called fighters was an insult to his pedigree, to Finn’s pedigree, that they had both worked so hard to cultivate.

And no, it hadn't been the same since Finn’s shoulder gave out in the assault Seth had ran his body through. He hadn't made it any better when he had subtly suggested that Finn should make the injured shoulder move as it simply could not at the time.

But for someone else to say it, and with such venom and malice, and to take it and turn it against his admirers...

**No, this could not stand.**

He could hear the false prophet’s speech winding down now beyond the doors in front of him, Balor could see him taking a cross-like pose. He had to make a terrifying entrance, an intimidating entrance, something that could evoke all the rage from the man in the ring that he would need…

_The lights went out. Balor’s advent; his heartbeats that came accentuated by flickering, synchronous red lights, his long draw of breath in the vast and soothing darkness that were joined by the searchlights that vainly searched for Finn’s soul in the dark as the Demon King asserted every last ounce of control, they did little more than rouse the so-called Eater of Worlds. Good, Balor thought, siphoning all he could with his temporarily infinite reaches in the dark._

The lights came up, and Balor had assumed the pose that Bray had taken previously, mocking him. The action did not have the immediately desirable outcome; Bray was seemingly amused.

Bray paced about far from Balor, laughing and carrying on.

“You think you're coy, huh?! You wanna make an example of the big man, huh?!”

Bray slung his coat behind him, preparing to fight. Yes, this was closer to what Balor wanted. Bray approaching, Bray getting closer, Bray walking into his trap. The so-called Eater of Worlds had figured Balor’s play out, and yet...he seemed willing to be goaded into it. Balor could feel the mat’s weight shaking in a manner that suggested Bray was, in fact, moving towards him.

**“I'd like that, Finn! I'd like that very much!”**

...closer, you idiot…not close enough…

It was then that Bray marched right up and approached him, as if Balor had somehow summoned him unconsciously. As Bray grabbed his shoulder, Balor dropped down, planting his foot in Bray’s face in what they had come to call a “Pele kick”. Bray floundered and scrambled out of the ring, giving Balor ample time and room to continue his assault.

The announcers had taken to squawking about the incident as they did, and as Balor bounced off the ropes and slid down to baseball slide-kick Bray in the face again, they crowed with delight and shock.

The crowd was ecstatic as well, their adoration of his swiftly doled-out cruelty fueling the Demon King as he slid out of the ring and scurried to the nearby barricades, opposite of Bray. With a full head of steam, Balor charged forwards, dropkicking Bray into and over the top of the barricades behind him. Getting to his feet, Balor decided that relishing in the cheers while he stood in a far more imposing stance, watching this so-called ‘Eater of Worlds’ cower in the aisles like a beaten child was far more indulgent than actually continuing his assault. The look of genuine fear in Bray’s eyes, coupled with the admiration of the crowd, satiated Balor greatly and gave him the chance to take a few breaths, wind down, and take everything in, now that the dog had been thoroughly whipped by the looks of it. 

As Bray scurried back, eyes trained on Balor’s almost looming form, the shadows creeping up the bare aisle towards him, Balor popped the collars of his coat, trying to look larger than he was. Finn’s small frame was hard to make look much more imposing; the appearance of peak physical shape only did so much, he’d always be built like the forsaken cruiserweights if only because of his overall height. The collar and flimsy jacket bits didn’t do much to change it, but a few nearby women squealed at the action, and frankly speaking, Balor quite enjoyed it if Finn didn’t.

The sad boy was long-term married to the craft and a loyal husband, but that was quite what Balor enjoyed most about him.

His theme blared over the speakers, signaling that somebody backstage wanted him to celebrate now, and celebrate Balor did. Bounding up the stairs, he went through his rope leans and poses, before bounding up the ring post and summoning the crowd to toss their arms up in elation synchronously with the music. 

Even if everything was falling apart, there were so many people here who would loyally submit their cries of adoration and allegiance, and that’s what mattered.

As his stadium music began to die down and Bray was out of sight, Balor realized he had unfinished business. He dashed back into the back areas, through the darkness, hoping it would help him navigate better.

...she was wandering around here still, wasn’t she…?


	12. Inheritance III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derailing the somewhat-well-laid plans of the Lunatic Fringe is fairly inadvisable.

“I still think catching them off-guard with a pair of chairs would be a better plan…”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, cracking his knuckles as Seth sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“Catching them in their VIP room, while we still have some element of surprise and the plan advantage, is a better tactic.”

 

“But can't we bring chairs along?”

 

“What is it with you and chairs…?”

 

“Oi, fellas!”

 

Seth and Dean rounded the corner to spot Sheamus and Cesaro standing around, standing in a gossiping stance.

 

“So how’s the honeymoon going, guys?” Cesaro chuckled, and Sheamus joined him.

 

“HA. HA. HAAAA~ Buzz off, you two.” Seth narrowed his eyes into a piercing scowl.

 

“We ain't got time for you bozos right now, anyways.” Dean added, crossing his arms.

 

“Is that so, huh? You off to go backstab each other or what?”

 

“Back off, Swiss Miss.” Dean growled.

 

“Or what? You two aren't on our level, because we are-” The duo grasped their titles proudly and stuck their arms out in front of them, their thumbs facing each others’. “-THE BAR!”

 

The thunderous cry from the both of them performed synchronously made Seth flinch. “Oh really now?” Dean shook his head, rolling his eyes. He grabbed Seth’s shoulder, attempting to lead him back down the path they were walking. “C’mon Seth, we got better things t-”

 

“You gonna let them talk crap?”

 

“Yes, this time. We’ll deal with them later.”

 

“No, I say we straighten them out right now.”

 

Dean leaned in to Seth’s ear lowering his tone to a more hushed level. “But what about your brilliant plan, huh?”

 

Seth lowered his tone to match as he turned his head to look back at Dean. “You wanna do your plan so badly, I'm willing to scrap my plan so we both get what we want.”

 

“Fine...but we whip them and split, got it?”

 

“Yeah, fine.”

 

Seth turned his head back towards The Bar, who were snickering at them.

 

“What an unbreakable bond between you two, eh?” Cesaro teased.

 

“Reminds me of you and I about a year ago, much less so now.” Sheamus replied, elbowing the Swiss Cyborg playfully in the ribs, eliciting a chuckle.

 

“Can you two even agree on anything long enough to beat us, I wonder?” Cesaro hummed, stroking his chin.

 

“Of course we can, when it comes to kicking ass and taking names.” Seth leaned in towards the duo, making Dean uneasy. “So a tag match tonight?”

 

“You’re on!” Sheamus grinned.

 

“But for how long?” Cesaro grinned his big, bright smile, and Dean restrained himself from knocking them out of his head.

 

The Bar strutted off, leaving Ambrose and Rollins to stand facing each other.

 

“I can't believe you just roped me into this…” Dean tossed his hands into the air, turning his back to Seth.

 

“Hey, they’re next on our list, yeah?”

 

Dean turned around, arms crossed. “OUR list? Only has the Miztourage on it. Don't kid yourself, okay?”

 

“Consider this a prelude to stomping mudholes into them, okay?”

 

Dean groaned irritatedly, tossing his head back like a child. “FIIIIIINE~”

 

\-----

 

Dean and Seth roamed their corner of the ring impatiently as the teams were announced; Seth was ready for the fight, but Dean was ready to leave.

 

The bell rung, and Dean volunteered to spar with Cesaro to open, being the stronger of the two in opening “feeling-out” segments.

 

Reaching his hand out as cautiously as Cesaro, Dean locked fingers and braced for a movement from the Swiss Cyborg. 

 

The bald European made a swift move, twisting Dean’s right arm outwards and around into a hammerlock, starting a chain that Dean easily countered with a slight slide of his foot and an easy turn-around reversal; a hammerlock for a hammerlock. Cesaro mirrored Dean’s maneuver, putting him back into a hammerlock, this time applying more pressure to send a bolt of pain through Dean’s arm. The Lunatic Fringe winced, then elbowed Cesaro in the side of his head. Realizing that the elbow did little more than irritate Cesaro, Dean hammered away with more elbow shots, making Cesaro wobble just enough. Dean smirked, shifted his leg around Cesaro’s, and pulled him into a drop toehold and freeing himself from the hammerlock. 

 

He scrambled to his feet wildly, then gave Cesaro a rough stomp as the man attempted to get back up.

 

Incensed, Cesaro shot up and connected with a stiff uppercut, stunning Dean just long enough to spin the Lunatic Fringe and plant him into The Bar's corner with a snap suplex. Sheamus, sensing an opportunity, gave Dean’s face a quick poke with the end of his boot while he was down. Cesaro smirked as Dean flailed slightly in response, and tagged the Celtic Warrior in.

 

The white-pale giant slipped in, and continued to kick at Dean, catching the referee's attention and getting himself an intervention.

 

“C’mon now Sheamus…”

 

Dean mentally muttered to himself that the ref’s begging was useless and trite when it came to Sheamus; he was proven right when Sheamus initially relented for a few moments before going right back to stomping him senseless against the turnbuckle.

 

Seth’s angry shouts and stomps from across the ring could be vaguely heard over the crowd and the sound of his skull hitting the junction of turnbuckle and mat apron, but the odd wave of nostalgia could still be felt by Dean as he struggled to get Sheamus’s boot to stop bouncing off of his head.

 

...Granted, the nostalgia could've been chalked up to an oncoming concussion…

 

Dean got a quick breath of relief as the referee interfered once more, and in the verbal scuffle, Dean slid around and out of the corner, curling up and rolling a few feet away.

 

Cesaro tagged himself in, getting a grunt of disappointment from the ginger behemoth as they switched places. As Dean got to his feet, Cesaro seized a clump of his hair and yanked upwards, ruthlessly pulling Dean to his feet. 

 

The ref admonished the action, slapping at Cesaro’s hand, prompting Cesaro to let go and mutter something in his thick accent about helping Dean up. While he was distracted, Dean spun around and gave a rough right hook to the Swiss Cyborg’s jaw, making him wobble back and dropping his guard entirely. Dean followed with another punch, then a swift kick to the gut. Seizing the momentum by the horns, Dean quickly wrapped Cesaro in an underhook DDT and dropped him with a quick snap.

 

Seth jumped up and down in the corner like an excited puppy, and Dean happily obliged him with a tag-in. The overly-rambunctious Architect went immediately for the pin, getting a two-count for his efforts. Cesaro shot back unto his corner and tagged out, allowing Sheamus to run out and Brogue Kick Seth sideways to the mat as he had attempted to get back to his feet.

 

Dean grimaced and groaned, holding his hand out as a sign that he wanted back in. Instead, Seth got up and caught the second Brogue Kick, driving his elbow into the Celtic Warrior's meaty calf twice before yanking him forwards, off his feet and onto his back.

 

He gave a few rough kicks to Sheamus’s inner thigh, then dropped down to pin.

 

“Seth’s got a fire lit under him tonight, Corey!” Booker chuckled as Sheamus kicked out at two-and-a-half.

 

“Seth’s got his head in the game; get rid of The Bar and then move back to the Miztourage. Dean’s looking quite distracted, though. I'm kinda surprised; this fight wasn't even his idea!”

 

“Dean Ambrose looks quite bored, to be honest. Not exactly the attitude one would want from their tag partner, is it?” Michael seemed almost annoyed, for once.

 

“Well then I'll go in there with Seth! He just keeps whipping Sheamus with snapmares and suplexes; if his leg doesn't give out, his back’s gonna do the job first!”

 

“Booker, are you even cleared to wrestle?” Corey snipped.

 

“I'm more fit than you are! I got my tights in back right now!”

 

Corey fumed silently, but perked up as the crowd began to catch fire in the dead moments after a missed pick-up attempt by Sheamus on Seth.

 

“Well, well, well. Looks like we’ve got some gatecrashers here…”

 

Miz, Bo, and Curtis walked down the ramp calmly, in formation, ready to provide the right kind of baited distraction. Fortunately for them, Dean latched right on their hook.

 

“Oh no, is Dean really falling for this trick,” Corey groaned. “because this is something straight out of his own Lunatic’s playbook, against Seth Rollins back in the day no less!”

 

Dean dropped off the apron and immediately began to rummage around under the ring, procuring a steel chair.

 

“He’s not thinking about taking on the Miztourage on his own with just a steel chair, is he…?” Corey’s voice was laced with concern. “This hasn't gone well for him before, what is he thinking?”

 

“Nobody can really know what’s going through the Lunatic Fringe’s mind at any given time, Corey. Besides, would you wanna go in there and find out?” Michael scoffed.

 

“If I were Seth, I'd be angry as hell right now that Dean has left me in the middle of the ring by myself to fight off Sheamus and Cesaro!” Booker flashed a look of utter disapproval. 

 

“If Seth could let his pride go, he’d forfeit the match and follow Dean out, but this is the cover man for our 2K game this year, so pride and ego may prove to be too much.”

 

Seth found himself grabbed suddenly and whipped into The Bar’s side of the ring by Sheamus. He clung to the ropes to avoid running into a Brogue Kick, and received a punch to the kidney from Cesaro in retaliation. The referee, too busy shouting at the Miztourage to leave, seemingly abandoned the match itself as well, leaving The Bar all the time in the world to torture the lonely Architect as Dean chased the Miztourage up the ramp and onto the stage.

 

Sheamus laughed, grabbed Seth by the legs, and roughly yanked Seth from them, dropping him onto his back and putting him into a tightly locked Cloverleaf.

 

Seth screamed in pain, getting the ref’s attention back to the match just as Cesaro had run in to stomp Seth in the face. 

 

“Cesaro, back to the corner!”

 

Cesaro held his hands up and backed away before the ref turned around and went back to chastising the Miztourage, who were intent on playing chicken with Dean and his chair for as long as they could before security came for them.

 

Once far enough away, Miz pulled them into a quick huddle, then once Dean was in swinging range, they split up and ran in different directions. Curtis headed backstage, Bo bolted into the crowd, and Miz began running towards the ring. Dean, knowing what battle he wished to engage in, chased Miz down the ramp.

 

After a full lap around the ring, Miz slid in, interrupting another attempt by Cesaro to come in and attack Seth.

 

The referee fumed, taking turns yelling at both of them. Dean stopped to look over at Seth, then bashed Sheamus in the head with the chair while the ref wasn't looking. Seth weaseled out of the loosened Cloverleaf, tapping Dean on the ankle as a thank-you before rolling out of the ring.

 

“What a cheap shot from Dean Ambrose, will he pay for it?” Michael chimed in.

 

“This biased ref is more concerned with other people in the ring than the illegal man clocking the legal opponent with an illegal object.” Corey shook his head.

 

“The Miz needs to take himself out before Dean does!”

 

Dean seemed to take the line as a cue and, while the ref was chastising Cesaro alone, Dean clocked The Miz with his chair like a baseball bat, sending him toppling sideways into the ref. The ref immediately turned around and ejected him, and Dean stepped past and nailed Cesaro, sending the Swiss Cyborg to fall atop Sheamus.

 

Having enough, the referee called for a stop, declaring the match a double disqualification.

 

“This bout has been declared a no-contest bout, via double disqualification.”

 

“Well, that was wild. Bet Dean’s happy with the result.”

 

Dean rolled out, steel chair still in hand, and yanked Seth to his feet to walk him backstage.

 

“This was a waste of time, Seth...you couldn’t just let it go, could ya?”

 

“Sorry…” Seth wrapped his arm around Dean’s shoulders for support, only to have them shrugged off.

 

“You could’ve just quit the match if you were sorry,” Dean growled. “still the same old story with you…”

 

“We can get’em at the house shows this week, okay? I’ll talk to Kurt about it.”

 

“Fine, fine…” Seth growled,then sighed. “You do that.” He scratched the back of his head, and leaned away from Dean, limping into the back on his own.

 

\-----

 

Dean meandered off on his own as Seth made his way down to the medical center. A PA rushed by, stopped, turned around, and grabbed Dean’s shoulder. “Mr. Ambrose, Mr. Ambrose…”

 

“Yeah, what do ya want?”

 

“Mr. Angle wants to see you in his office immediately. I would advise you just come with me.”

 

“What’s this about?”

 

“Can’t be anything good.”

 

Dean sighed, gesturing to the PA to lead the way, grumbling to himself as he dropped the chair in the hallway and tried to scratch away the recurring migraine.


	13. Devotion III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bayley's night goes from bad to worse; from a busted shoulder to a strange series of events involving everybody she's been dealing with lately.

This was the end. Truly, very much, the end.

All Bayley could do was breathe and cling to her arms in terror; her damaged shoulder screaming at her that she had failed everyone. 

It wasn't a break, but it might as well have been. She wondered if the misery she felt was even a fraction of how Finn had felt last year. 

Had it really been a year since then? Time flew.

She was involuntarily crying now, silent saline just rippling from the corners of her eyes. She couldn't move her arm half as high as she needed to. 

Nia had done what she needed to do, Alexa won again.

...no, it was unfair to blame Nia squarely. It could have happened at any time to anyone!

There were a few of her fellow female superstars talking near the infirmary; she couldn't figure out what they were saying, but it was amusing to them, at least.

It was probably about her. ...or maybe not, not everything had to be about the now, about Bayley’s misfortune, about how pathetic she was, how close she was…

A familiar face poked around the corner, grinning widely. A needed face.

“Hey Finn!”

“‘eyyyy, Bayley~”

Finn wasn't one to sing-song anything, but he seemed to be in a good mood. Must have had a good night.

“Hey…”

“What’re y’doin’ in ‘ere, huh?” He walked over, his facial expressions twitching between elated and concerned.

“You alright, Finn?”

“I’m wonderful, Bayley. Great night, great night...so. How did-” Finn hovered over and around her shoulder, delicately running the tips of his fingers over the bags of ice with a pensive look on his face. “how didja manage t’is?”

“I just hit the apron funny…” Bayley sniffled, then chuckled. “y’know, it happens…”

Finn’s demeanor fell slightly as he picked at the ice bag lightly.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t sense under t’bag...ice’s too cold, plastic’s too t’ick.”

“...sense?”

Finn moved his hands to the edges of the wrappings, closer to her skin. Bayley jerked away, wincing.

“Okay, seriously, what is wrong with you right now?”

A slight shifting of fabric against fabric drew both of their attentions, but nothing seemed to come of it. Finn turned his attention back to her shoulder first, and Bayley scooted away.

Her phone buzzed, drawing her attention. She shielded the screen from Finn, who was attempting to take a peep.

It was Seth.

_The safeword is “feisty”, okay? I mean, not from me, but...you get what I mean, right?_

She stared at the screen for a few moments, trying to figure out what he meant, but then put two and two together and texted him back a thumb’s up. Finn poked his head around to find that she had turned the screen off, sucked his teeth in annoyance, then went back to trying to examine her shoulder.

“So it's just a’it’le bump, yeah? If it was worse, t’ey’d ‘ave it wrapped up more…”

“...they say I'm not gonna be able to compete at Summerslam, Finn.”

Finn stopped poking around her arm mid-movement, the color in his face draining out and down his neck as he looked up at her with eyes filled with dread. A few moments passed, then a small curling of the sides of his lips spread into a smirk.

“Ah, just takin’ t’piss outta me, eh? Bad form, lass, not funny.”

Bayley’s face lit up as her eyes watered. “I’m not kidding. They want x-rays tomorrow, but my shoulder’s really messed up and I can barely move it. So...no. I’m probably not going to Summerslam.”

Finn staggered back slightly, as if he’d been kicked in the chest.

“...I ruined yer moment...I'm so sorry…”

“...huh? You didn't ruin anything, Finn. Just stop grabbing my arm and it'll be fine.”

He grabbed her hand. “I didn't mean t’harm ya, I just wanted t’warn ya, scare y’off…”

“Well you're doing a really job, being so...feisty like this…”

Seth seemed to silently slide from behind the wall, slinking over as best as he could with a bag of ice taped to his knee.

“Hey, Balor, back off.”

Finn whipped around to find a grumpy, limping Seth coming his way. He sucked his teeth and shook his head.

“Yer not lookin’ ready fer a tough guy moment, Rollins. Ah don’t rec’mend it, unless y’wanna leave here limpin’ on bot’legs.”

“Finn, cut it out…” Bayley begged, not sure quite how to respond.

“Nah, let the tough guy run his mouth. I ain’t Wilder; the only one needing a hospital visit after we’re done here is gonna be him. Now, Bayley said back off, so back off.”

“She yer girlfriend now’er somethin’?”

“Well, she ain’t yours, and even if she was, I'd assume a good boyfriend would know when to not bug his girl about sensitive stuff. So get. The hospital wing’s for the injured. Unless you want a reason to stay. Otherwise, we could have security see you on out.” Seth held up his phone and wobbled it. “I’m still in good with a few guys, so I wouldn't push your luck.”

“I would ASSEVERATE that your good intentions would be CALAMITOUS at this juncture, Brother Tyler.”

The three occupants of the observation room looked over at the doorframe, where Broken Matt stood, holding a flask with a rather intricate design. 

Finn seemed mildly unnerved by the sight.

Bayley gathered that Broken Matt was referring to Seth, and she smirked.

“Oh, hello t’ere…”

“We have traversed this establishment many times over, Balor, and your methods of subterfuge are myriad and inspiring.”

“No ‘Brot’er’, eh? Are we not friends now?”

“So long as your malignancy hangs thickly in the air, your point of origin dubious, your vessel is being held hostage by you, and my brother and I will not stand for it.”

Bayley felt a chill up her spine; the word ‘vessel’, to the Broken Hardys, implied one’s body, but not necessarily themselves as a person. At least that's what she had figured out from the little snippets she saw on television.

...what had happened to Finn? Was she even talking to Finn, or something pretending to be him? If it was really something just pretending, it certainly explained a lot.

...did her attempt to help Finn only hurt him more? It hurt to think about it like that. But the Broken Hardys knew what they were doing...right?

“Brother Tyler, if you can, it would be SAGACIOUS if you removed Sister Rose from the PREMEESES post-haste and escorted her to a more secure location. Preferably well-lit.”

Seth looked to Bayley, and Bayley scooted closer to Seth.

“No one’s leavin’ ‘less I say so.”

There was a strange feeling in the air suddenly, Bayley realized; cold and sharp, the sensations much worse in the shadows as she slowly moved closer to Seth. The one-legged man was also slowly moving towards her, eyes laser focused on Finn as he dragged his bound leg along.

Once he got close enough to her, Seth reached out, wrapping his arm around her back, securing his hand to her uninjured arm, and giving her a minor tug which simultaneously pulled her on her feet and also to his side.

Finn took notice of the sound of Bayley’s feet hitting the floor, appearing to become conflicted over whom he should pay more attention to.

“Balor, your quarrel lies with me, yeeeees?” Broken Matt pointed to himself, then gave a taunting gesture. As soon as Finn began to approach, Seth began moving himself and Bayley towards the back exit of the room.

The last thing Bayley saw of the showdown was Broken Matt splashing the contents of the flask over Finn’s face and tossing the howling and flailing Irishman out of the door with a rough whip.

Bayley didn't ask questions, just stayed attached to Seth out of abject fear as he stiffly led them both through hallway after hallway. 

This was all her fault. 

Seth had said something, but it didn't register attached all.

“Huh?”

“I said I'm gonna bring you to the locker room to get your stuff if you haven't sent anybody to get it for you.”

“The nurses sent one of the runners to get my stuff. It's all sitting at the garage area.”

“Good. Then we just gotta take a pit stop at the men’s lockers so I can get my bags,” he smirked. “already got mine packed, so we’ll be good to go.”

“We?”

Seth looked down, stopping. “What, you wanna catch a cab by yourself?”

“I was gonna catch a ride with one of the girls; probably Sasha or Mickie.”

“That’s fine. I get it.” He let her go, rebalancing himself. “You get with Sasha and them, stay safe. Finn ain’t right tonight.”

His body language and tone, unlike the last time where he hid most of it with his hoodie and turning away from her, were in full view to Bayley. He was terribly expressive, whether it was intentional or not, and right now he was fully broadcasting that he was actually insulted.

“I mean, I don’t have to bu-”

“Nah, it’s fine, they’re your friends. I gotta go see if Dean’s set for the night, anyways.” He gave a small smile, but Bayley could tell it was fake. “Just...text me when you get there, okay?”

“Yeah...sure…” Bayley nodded, screaming at herself internally as Seth changed direction and left her in the hallway by herself.

She wandered down to the garage, a sour pit in her stomach. Everything just seemed to get worse and worse tonight, including the pain in her shoulder. She must have aggravated it when Seth had pulled her closer.

She located her bags and took them with her to the valet. Scanning the area, she saw her car, but not Sasha’s.

“Heard the bad news, Bayley. I made arrangements for your car to be brought to the hotel. You want me to call up a cab for ya?”

“Uh, is Sasha still here?”

“She left with Alicia and Dana earlier.”

“...Mickie?”

“Left to go to the bar down the street with Elias. Lucky guy. You can still catch them there, probably.”

“Nah, let them have fun. Emma?”

“Left with Alexa and Nia about ten minutes ago.”

“Nevermind…” Bayley sighed deeply. Seth was right; if things hadn’t gone well, she was likely to not be safe alone. Besides, she could use a distraction.

“Gimme five minutes, okay?”


	14. Antipode I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth Rollins has 99 problems, and his friends circle is all of them.

_“So there goes my beer money for the month.”_

Seth shook his head; Dean certainly didn't need that kind of money floating around anyways.

_“Are you in Kurt’s office, or somewhere else?”_

_“Making my way to the locker room. Meet you there. We need to talk.”_

_“Yeah, we do.”_

Seth slid his phone back into the inner pocket of his tights, continuing to the locker room.

As he reached the doorway, his pocket buzzed.

_“So, uh, is the offer still available?”_

Seth looked to the frustrated Dean, who was angrily packing his bags inside.

“When are they gonna start fining The Miz for something equally as dumb as his haircut, Seth?”

“You hit several people with a chair, including Sheamus directly in the head. You know they hate head shots.” Seth sauntered in and gathered his already-packed bags together.

“Shame I didn't take his head off.” Dean roughly zipped his case up and tossed his hooded sweatshirt on.

“I can't blame you for wanting to. But since you made me wait so long for yo-”

“Uh, no, Kurt made you wait by yapping my ears off and making me sign crap.”

Seth pulled his shirt down over his head. “Whatever. Since I had to wait for you, we're picking up a passenger to drop off at the hotel.”

Dean groaned as he zipped up his leather jacket. “Who the fuck is it?”

“...Bayley.”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, SETH, JUST BRING’ER WITH US AND YOU TWO CAN BANG IN THE ROOM WHILE I GO GET SOME PIZZA.”

Seth huffed as he pulled his hooded sweatshirt on. “Fucking dammit, Dean...her shoulder’s fucked. She's gotta go to the hospital for x-rays. She'd be driving herself if she was cleared to. I'm just doing this because it sounds like the girl train left without her.”

“Ha! For the friendliest person in the whole roster, she certainly doesn't have a lot of friends…”

Seth mulled it over for a moment, then nodded in agreement as he began to leave, Dean following closely behind.

“Being nice doesn't win you friends, ya know?”

“Neither does being a dick.” Dean punched Seth in the back of the shoulder jovially.

“Well you and Roman are all I care about anyways, so I just don’t try.”

“Got a funny way of showing it…”

“C’mon now…”

The duo rounded a corner into an open hallway and were promptly greeted with a the crashes and growls of a fight having broken out. Both Seth and Dean crouched behind a stack of “flight cases”, keeping out of sight as Karl Anderson scurried into view. 

He was followed briefly by Gallows as he hurled Finn through the air, before Anderson connecting his Boot of Doom directly in the Irishman’s face. The smaller of the three men seemed to crumple to the ground as the Hardy Brothers shuffled into the area, both carrying long lengths of restraints; Broken Matt carried a braided rope with many white tassels attached to them, Brother Nero toting around what appeared to be an iron chain.

Dean leaned in to Seth, whispering as low as he could manage. “Fuck, man. What’s going on?”

Seth turned his head to whisper back. “Finn’s completely off his fuckin’ head. Tried to like, fuck with Bayley’s shoulder in the infirmary.”

“Think it's a Wellness violation?”

“Nah, man. I think he's just totally mental.”

Gallows and Anderson stood guardedly over Finn’s seemingly lifeless body as the Hardys approached.

“Preserve your guard, Brothers of Good. These will aid our efforts to ESCHEW this creature’s TAINTED touch, as you requested.”

“The fuck did they get those…?” Dean wondered aloud into Seth’s ear. Seth could only shrug in response.

As the sound of iron dragging against concrete came within Finn’s earshot, he shot up, his hands slamming into the shins of both Good Brothers and sending them both careening into each other. Finn used them as leverage to scramble to his feet, then shoved them away to the ground as he backed against the nearest wall. The light fixture over his head began to flicker, the shadows around him twisting and bending as the bulb decided whether or not to extinguish.

The quartet took heed to the light, and Seth and Dean shuddered as the room around them slowly became devoid of heat; their involuntary shakes inexplicably seemed to draw Finn’s attention for just long enough for the Hardys to find their opening. 

Both brothers charged, attempting first to lasso Finn up in their respective restraints. The light fixture finally shorted out with a pop, and Finn shot forwards. A flying dropkick divided evenly between the two sent both brothers flying back, the strike seemingly delivered with far more force than one would have imagined. A quick kip-up from the Irishman and the Good Brothers tried their luck. A pair of kicks were caught and rewarded with the two of them being swung off their feet and into each other. 

The attack bought the Hardys a chance to get to their feet and sneak up behind the jacketed assailant, both dropping their restraints down over his shoulders. The Irishman flailed in terror, eventually shaking them off and driving his elbows into their solar plexuses. Both stumbled back, but steeled themselves as Finn turned to face them. 

The Irishman lunged, but Broken Matt caught him into a front facelock, quickly converting it into a Twist of Fate. Finn appeared to recover from it nearly unscathed, only to stand up into Brother Nero’s own Twist of Fate. Both scooped Finn up before he could react, running fast on adrenaline, and dropped him once more with a combined Side Effect and leg sweep.

Gallows and Anderson, having recovered from the early blows, marched over and gestured to themselves. The Hardys gave the barely-flailing Finn to the Good Brothers, who juggled him into position and pulverized him with a Magic Killer.

Finn lied still against the ground as the quartet stood around him, looking as if they were waiting for him to rise again. When he did not, they quickly began securing his wrists and ankles to his waist with the restraints, using several locks to hold the restraints in place.

Once Finn was tightly secured, Broken Matt turned and stood still. “Brother Tyler, Brother Jon, are you unharmed?”

Seth and Dean looked to each other, then stood up. “Uh, we’re fine…” Seth scratched the back of his neck as he pondered if he should have helped if they knew he was there.

“Yeah, but is he fine?” Dean pointed to Finn, who was being held hovering above the floor by the restraints. The trio of Brother Nero and the Good Brothers began walking away as Broken Matt answered.

“APODICTICALLY not, hence the safety restraints. The DEMON he harbors is a hazard to everyone in this arena, not merely in the ring of war!” Broken Matt shifted his attention to Seth. “I am safe in assuming you have secured Sister Rose in an impregnable location?”

“Uh, she wanted to go with Sasha and them, but she found out that they already left, so we’re on our way to pick her up.” His ears turned red. “She didn't wanna stay with me, I thought she'd be safer and more comfortable with them.”

“Make haste, then. I would rather her be off the PREMEESES before we cart this foul passenger through the garage.”

“No problem.” Seth tugged Dean’s shirt sleeve, indicating they should go.

As the duo swiftly left the open area, Dean leaned in to Seth’s exclusive hearing range.

“You really have to tell me what's going on.”

“I hardly understand, myself. Let’s just go get Bayley and leave…”

\-----

The duo reached the garage, finding a dismal Bayley sitting against a pillar, bags next to her.

“Hey Bayley, need some help over there?” Seth beelined for her, Dean rolling his eyes.

“Ya know, Finn’s all...tied up for the moment, ya don't need to be all papa bear with ‘er.”

Seth groaned. “I don't care, she’s got one arm, Dean.”

“Fine, gimme your keys. I’m driving.”

“Hell nah, you're not driving my baby.”

“Then I'll get Bayley and you get the car.”

“Nobody has to get me, it's fine…” Bayley winced and inched herself up against the wall.

“I’ll stay with her, you go get the car.” Dean waved Seth off, and the black-haired man grumbled as he shuffled off to fetch the car.

Seth took a moment as he approached his truck to think about the situation at hand. 

Numerous parallel trains of thought sped through his mind; was he going about everything wrong with the Hardys, was he going about everything wrong with Dean and the Miztourage, was babying Bayley insulting or just him being overly helpful, was what he and Dean encountered with Finn, the Hardys, and The Club...real?

Well, the last one was easy to answer: magic, demons, all that other stuff, was not real. The iconography, the mythos of all the scary spooky things, they were fun escapes, but it was all about as real as a flying pig.

...the chill in the air was just his nerves, or the ice strapped to his knee finally getting to him. The flickering light just got knocked loose when Finn hit the wall. It wasn't something supernatural at all. Finn just needed some help, maybe some medicinal fix. 

He’d been in a rut lately; he probably just snapped tonight.

He got into his truck, turned the engine on, and slowly backed out of his spot.

Trying to collaborate with Dean was already a monumental task, but Dean was dead set on one thing, and trying to get a viable strategy that he liked had never quite been something the Lunatic Fringe enjoyed submitting to.

That was for later tonight, or tomorrow morning. Right now, Bayley was important. He was starting to scare himself with how easy it was for him to just slip into being a doting best friend with her, like he was Sasha or something.

Well, he wasn't Sasha; he was actually here when Bayley needed somebody to help her.

Maybe that was what made it so easy, the fact that she was alone and had nobody on her side. It was pretty relatable, at least. Common ground between them. Made it slightly less awkward, the more he thought about it.

But Dean’s cavilling-on about his rather sudden gravitation to the Hugger was something to think about. For all the effort he tried to make to keep people out of his hair about her, he wasn't doing that great of a job about it.

But right now, she needed somebody, and if it wasn't Sasha or the rest of the women’s locker room, and it wasn't Finn, he surmised that she didn't have much of a choice of anybody if he didn't offer himself up as a third-rate alternative to possibly being jumped by an unhinged Irishman.

As he rounded the corner, Bayley was giving Dean an annoyed look while Dean looked thoroughly amused; ugh, what had he said now…?

Seth rolled down the passenger window as he stopped his truck.

“Get in losers, we’re going to all the hotels tonight!” Seth smirked and unlocked the doors as he hopped out. “Bayley, just get in the back seat and get comfy. I got your stuff.”

“Thanks.” Bayley slowly maneuvered herself into the backseat as the duo shifted all three gear packs into the back of Seth’s truck. Once everything and everyone was settled, Seth revved the engine and drove unusually fast out of the garage.

“On the road again, you and me...heh,” Dean ruffled his hair. “and we got a straggler.”

“Bayley’s fine.”

“Surprised you haven't cranked the death metal by now.”

“I know you're down for whatever, but you’re not the only one in here.”

“Aha, preferential treatment for our ladyfriend~” Dean gave an over-exaggerated wink.

“C’mon now, cut it out~” Seth groaned and threw his head back for a moment in protest, then focused back on the road.

“It’s cool. You can play whatever you want. The hotel is only like, ten minutes away.”

Seth smirked and turned the local radio on, putting on a rock station.

“Ah, finally, some good background noise.” Dean shifted to a more comfortable position as the truck was stopped at a light.

Bayley sat patiently, and Seth noticed after a while that she was smirking and giggling.

“What’s up back there?”

Bayley stifled a laugh. 

“What? Was it something funny in the commercial that I missed?”

“...so...your middle name is Tyler?” Bayley chuckled.

Dean looked to Seth, who was slowly working out how she got to her statement.

...oh.

“So that's how the Hardy name thing goes? By middle name, huh?” 

“Seth Tyler Rollins?” Bayley laughed. “And here I thought my name was nerdy.”

“Hey, back off. I didn't name myself that, alright?” He shook his head. “My parents were both stubbornly set on what they wanted to name me, and they both won.”

Dean rolled his eyes and snickered, earning him a glare from Seth. “Yeah, chuckle it up, Johnny Boy.”

Dean stopped dead in the middle of his amusement, a dead look filling his features rapidly as he replied with a tone matching his glare. “Don’t call me that ever again.”

Both Seth and Bayley inched away from Dean, who focused his attention out his passenger side window as the light changed.

“So, it's Bayley Rose, then?” Seth smirked. “Sounds nice. Rolls off the tongue.”

Bayley waited for some kind of response from Dean, but he had been rendered quite silent.

“Ah, well, my godmother’s name is Rosa, so my dad thought it would be nice to give me her name...kinda.”

“Well that’s nice. So...Finn’s middle name is Balor?”

Bayley smirked. “He doesn't have a middle name. Just Finn Balor.”

“Oh I see how it works now, okay.”

“...always gotta figure things out, don't you?”

“Knowledge is power, and I love me lots of power.”

“Yeah, I heard all about that Authority thing you were in.”

“Hey now, I'm a changed guy. I can use my power for good. Did for a long time before that, ya know?”

“Suuuuuuuure~” Bayley giggled.

“Oh c’mon…” Seth sighed as they advanced on the hotel's front lot. “I will shove you sideways outta my truck if ya don't stop.”

“On my bad shoulder? What a heelish thing to do!”

Seth rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, let me help…” He elbowed Dean, shaking him from his thoughts. “Can you guard the car?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great. Lemme pop the trunk…”

\-----

A few minutes of shuffling through the trunk and a pit stop at the front desk later, and Seth and Bayley were exiting the elevator and making their way down the hall to her room.

“...thanks for helping me out.”

“Anytime, Bayley. Not just because I'd imagine me doing all this makes us even now.”

“Yeah. We’re square.”

Bayley used her key card and smiled, opening the door to let Seth in with her bags.

“I hope you know I was only yanking your chain earlier. I didn't mean to be mean about your name. It's a nice name.” Bayley smiled.

“It's fine. I overreact sometimes, especially when Dean’s egging me on, ya know?” Seth set her bags against the end of the bed, then turned to face her.

“Yeah. Sasha can do that to me too sometimes.”

“It’s irritating, isn’t it?”

“That’s why I’m apologizing.”

“Well, apology accepted.” He nodded, moving closer to the door. “So, if you’re all set up, I’m gonna get going. Dean can get all antsy in the car if we’re not moving.”

“I’m gonna just shower and get to bed. Got an appointment in the morning.”

“Hope it’s all good,” Seth stopped in front of her, awkwardly standing as he waited for her to move out of the way. “ya can’t be a Hugger with a messed up shoulder, right?” He smirked, and she scrunched her nose in response.

“I can still be a Hugger with one arm,” Bayley leaned forwards, wrapping her left arm around his mid-torso.

Seth began to wriggle and squirm under her half-embrace. “No, d-don’t...push...your...yourself now...c’mon now, I gotta get...going, okay?” When he realized that she wasn’t letting go, he sighed and stood still, letting her finish getting the hug out of her system.

“See?” She pulled back, looking up to him for a response with a shit-eating grin.

Seth sighed and patted her on the back. “Yeah, ya still got it. Now I gotta get. Dean’s probably clawing at the window by now.”

“Right! Sorry.” Bayley quickly moved out of his way. “Have a safe trip!”

“Thanks.” He gave a warm smile, letting himself out into the hall before turning around. “Let me know how things go, yeah?”

“Totally!”

“Alright. Later.” He began making his way back to the elevator, the sound of her door closing dragging a heavy weight off his shoulders.

The creeping terror of numerous trains of thought colliding sent a thick shiver up his spine and a twinge of nausea in the pit of his stomach.

Perhaps letting Bayley do what she wanted was a bad idea. Nonetheless.

Everything had gone the complete opposite of how he wanted it to, tonight. His knee lit up in a bolt of pain as he walked, reminding him that he had to lie down at some point.

He leaned against the wall as he waited for the elevator, ears burning red in a cacophony of thought train collisions.

Could he patch things up entirely with Dean, or was it truly a lost cause?

Could things with Bayley get to a nice, even middle ground, or was he perpetually stuck between her and Finn?

Was Finn alright, or would he have to contend with a far less amicable unhinged lunatic on roster?

Was this whole nonsense with the Hardys just horseplay, or should he take it seriously?

Was there a way to get Dean to compromise so they could have a civil match where they were on the same page, or were they just gonna end up constantly getting divided?

Were any of his choices the right ones at all?

_Ding~_

Seth took a quick last look at Bayley’s hotel door before slipping inside the elevator. 

...was it right to just leave her here alone, or…?

As the doors closed, he slammed the back of his head against the back wall of the elevator.

“FUCK.”


	15. Cast-Off V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers of Good entertain the Hardy Brothers with their storied past with the Demon King, and provide a glimmer of enlightenment on what must be done to tame the nefarious being.

As the night grew long, and the Hardy Compound’s faithful travel wagon carried the Club, the Hardys, and Finn’s ensnared and unconscious body back to Cameron, Broken Matt simply couldn't help but break the silence as he looked up from his map for a moment.

“Brothers of Good, I must INQUIRE...just where did you PROCURE the knowledge of the self-proclaimed Demon King and how to subdue it?”

Broken Matt returned to his map, awaiting the answer as Brother Nero roughly turned the corner. “Brother Nero, be more CONSCIENTIOUS. Jostling Balor awake would not be good for us.”

“My apologies, Brother.”

Karl Anderson and Luke Gallows looked at each other, mulling it over. After a moment, Anderson looked back to respond.

“To be honest, I couldn't tell ya when I first got the inkling that something wasn't right about this nerd. He's always been a bit...well, eccentric. We've all worked with guys like that, so I figured I wouldn't ask. But I can certainly tell ya that I noticed a change in’em the very first time after he’n’Taguchi hit that losing streak. Buncha happy little Super Junior tag nerds ‘til one day he just went postal’n’shot his mouth off.”

“I remember watchin’ them tapes that one night, with everybody, ‘member, Karl?” Luke slapped Karl on the shoulder, and they both chuckled.

“That reminds me, actually, but lemme finish what I was sayin’.”

“My bad.” Luke held his hands up in apology.

“Nah, you're good. Anywho, so yeah, he went postal on Taguchi, broke up the team, and bing-bang-boom, we’n our two closest buds’re a stable and, since it was his idea, he's our boss. And booooy, was he surly. But he was the leader, and that's how things go in Japan.”

“I see…” Matt nodded in understanding. “while this is interesting, I don't see how this answers my query.”

“Well I told ya that just to set up how it all went down.” Karl replied.

“Ah, my apologies.”

“It's all good in the hood, mi amigo.” Karl smirked. “So, we got this new group now, and at first I thought maybe, maybe he was tired of losing all the time. I could see that there was something in his eyes, a cold fire, ya know? Now that I think about it, is was a hell of a lot like the look while he was tryin’ to snap Wilder’s arm off earlier.” Karl shook his head. “But back then, I always chalked it up t’him being really intensely focused...so did the others. Like he finally got it in his head, what he wanted to do. Wish I knew what it was really, then.”

“Balor?”

“Mmm.”

“Ah, I see where this tale has led.” Broken Matt smirked. “But you didn't know for sure, then.”

“Nah. Wasn't ‘til his big loss to Okada when we knew somethin’ was real wrong.” Anderson nodded.

Gallows sat up slightly. “I was the one who suggested we get’em a good luck charm, and Fale stopped me and said ‘Nah, we can't be seen respecting Japanese stuff, hurts our image if it gets out.’ I was pretty green at the time, and I didn't wanna make the big guy upset. So we met up with a priest at a bar all discreetly, and we-” Gallows chuckled. “This nerd's got a love of space stuff, right? So he has this little rocket ship charm for his phone, and we turn up to this meetin’ with the Shinto priest and he tells us the damn thing's cursed. Cursed by a great monster he can't quite describe other than it’s pretty powerful. Says it's probably why he had such bad luck the last few months. So we paid this padre to sanctify it, and he took it and brought it back to the shrine, blessed it, kicked the whammy out of it, and met with us again.”

“Do you know how the priest sanctified this object?”

“Hell, if we knew, we’d’ve done it ourselves!” Gallows chuckled. Matt sighed, continuing to listen. Clearly, this process of extracting what he needed was going to take a while. 

“So we get this charm back, right? And he’s furious, looking for his charm. We slip it in his bag, acting like maybe it fell off or somthin’, right? So he reached in, and he just yelped and launched across the room, clutchin’ his hand like he just high-fived a hibachi or somethin’. So we asked him what happened, and he ordered us to empty his bag.”

“And when the little rocket charm tumbled on out, he hissed at it like a wet cat in a snowstorm! Wanted to know what happened to it. And stupid me, I went to hand it to’em, and he sicced Fale on me.” Luke tossed his free hand up.

“So the sanctified object caused Balor tangible pain and caused Balor to reveal himself...hm.”

“So I told Fale what was up, and he talked to Tama Tonga, and they went in there and just kicked Karl out in the hall with me and locked us out for a few hours.”

“Do you know what transpired in your absence?”

“Nah, they didn't tell us shit. But they wanted to call the padre up again and to tell’em what had happened when they let us back in.”

“Tama Tonga had’em all tangled in a bedsheet, was barely hangin’ on to’em. Damn nerd was growlin’ and flailin’ and spittin’ all the four letter words there are!” Karl laughed. “I mean, it was funny, watching Tama Tonga have trouble keeping this tiny little Irishman in a surfboard hold with all his limbs wrapped up, but it's kinda scary to think about now. Can't imagine what Balor woulda done if he got free before the priest got to us.”

“Your friend, Tama Tonga, is a very courageous man to dare subdue a DEMON without proper precaution, let alone succeed.”

“Brother Moore, I require 75 cents for this upcoming toll booth.”

“Oh, you didn't take the long route around?”

“I like paying my dues for a safe travel free of damaged roads. Besides, we are trying to get home post-haste.”

“Ahhhh, excellent point, Brother Nero. I will procure your toll.” Matt set his map book aside and began rooting through the change jar in the cup holder. “Please, Brothers of Good, continue your epic tale as I locate the toll price…”

“Alright. So! The padre rolls up a few hours later with his little Shinto nun a-”

“Luke, they call’em ‘miko’ over there, not ‘nun’.”

“...so, the padre and the miko-nun lady roll up with all this rope with these little zig-zig papers all over it, what did they call it, Karl?”

“They call it a ‘shimenawa’, Luke. It's what they wrap around the shrine gates to keep evil spirits away. They also tie them to sacred rocks that they claim have good spirits in them to help protect them, too. The little papers are called ‘shide’, and they supposedly are where the spirits are trapped, like a dream catcher.”

“Yeah, yeah. So the padre and the miko-nun walk in and take just one good look at our boy, and just get paler than the bedsheets. The cute little miko-nun ducked behind me, holding her little stick out and everything...” Luke chuckled.

“So the priest told Tama Tonga to hold’em in place for just a bit longer, and he wrapped the shimenawa around them in a ring, like what they do to them rocks and trees and stuff. Then he told us all to get away from it and he got his miko to perform a little purifying ritual with her staff and some incense to make sure the demon didn't curse us or nothin’.”

“And he just stayed in the ring when Tama Tonga let him go, it was the weirdest thing!” Luke’s eyes went wide. “He was afraid of the damn thing, wouldn't touch it. Just curled up in a little ball inside the ring, looked real damn pathetic the whole time. Screamed at the padre in Japanese and spat at him for a few hours, but he just got real quiet after the padre did his little ritual.”

“Did he tell you anything about Brother Finn’s CONDEESHUN?”

“Yeah, he told us our friend had amassed a whole host of demons in’em, said he drove them all into the shimenawa, where they were bound and would be disposed of. He told us he wanted to keep’em in the binding circle for a few days, just to make sure.”

“Well, if it had really worked, would we be here now, Karl?”

“Of course not. The question is how did this...whatever Balor is...escape?”

“Well, did it?”

“Well, I'm pretty damn certain he recognized us, so I reckon yes.”

“Hm...this tale has made a rather ABSTRUSE turn. Perhaps we have been observing Balor from the wrong perspective. Perhaps Balor is not a DEMON of noble rank, but a King of DEMONS whose true nature is not that of his servants. Hm…” 

Matt set his map down in his lap. “As per your accounts, Balor should have been purged and DELETED all those years ago, if he was merely a DEMON, or simply a malignant passenger spirit. However, his presence is so obscured by Darkness, it becomes hard enough to tell whether the passenger or his vessel has maintained control of the corporeal faculties, let alone what its true nature is…”

“The mere fact that the Seven Deities cannot make a clear decision on what we should do with Balor is clearer in meaning now;” Nero smirked. “if we use this shimenawa we have him bound with as the inside of a trap circle, maybe line the ring with sigils, in the barn, we can break the wall of demons and finally reveal this nefarious creature.”

“What a WONDERFUL plan!” Broken Matt tossed his arms up in joy, then looked to the back seats of the van. “Brothers of Good, we would be honored if you continued to assist us in this subduing of the King of DEMONS.”

“Whatever we can do to get our little nerd back to normal.”

“Brother Nero! We need to make a pit stop for some of this highly sanctified shimenawa rope. I doubt our simulacrum will do more than rouse his ire once he awakens.”

“Can do, Brother Moore,” Brother Nero smiled wide like a Cheshire cat. “just lead the way.”

\-----

It was nearly four in the morning by the time the van pulled onto the Hardy Compound. The quartet, met by Senor Benjamin and Vanguard 1, shuffled into the barn and quickly began making it a more sufficient holding bay for the Demon King. 

The floor swept and made clean and untarnished, animals moved to safer areas, sigils drawn upon the floor to aid in repelling the Darkness, and the shimenawa was lied out flat in a circle, Gallows and Anderson carrying the body of their long-time friend inside of it.

Once they dropped him into the ring and let go, the Demon King quickly woke up, gasping and flailing.

“LET ME OUT!”

Karl and Luke quickly vacated the rope barrier out of fear, and Broken Matt and Brother Nero saw fit to step forwards to the edge of the ring.

“Balor, self-proclaimed King of DEMONS, I am pleased to inform you that this shall be your abode until we have reached an ACCORD regarding your hazardous conduct.” Matt smirked. “Now that I have made this clear, do you have anything to say before we retire for the night?”

A panicked and confused look crossed Balor’s face. “...do y’permit me t’keep t’is body alive?”

“What kinda stupid question is that?” Karl replied.

Matt tilted his head and squinted his eyes in response. “If you require my permission...then yes. I permit you to do what is necessary to keep this vessel…” Matt pondered for a beat. “subsistent. Nothing more.”

Balor gave a weak smile before curling up as comfortably as he could while bound and closing his eyes, then swiftly went prone, breathing soft, shallow breaths.

The Hardy Brothers looked at each other quizzically, then looked over to Gallows and Anderson.

“As a token of our gratitude, we welcome you to our guest rooms for the remaining of the evening, if you so wish. We would be more than willing to accommodate you both in returning to the circuit of the traveling venues.”

“Can't pass up a free room.” Luke retorted.

“We’ll take your offer kindly. Thank you.”

“No, thank you two for your assistance.” Matt turned to Vanguard 1. “Alert me if Balor so much as twitches.” The drone twittered back in response, then took a safe position outside the rope ring.

“Come!” Broken Matt began to lead the party out, but Brother Nero sat outside the ring.

“I will keep a vigil. Not only to protect Vanguard 1, but also...I have many questions, and sleep will not satiate them.”

“As you wish, Brother Nero. I, too, find peculiarities in the quirks of this King of DEMONS. But if you feel rest will not come, by all means stay. Take precaution.”

“I shall.” Brother Nero smirked, crossing his legs and taking a more meditative position.


	16. Inheritance IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has things to do, things to know, things to finish. Nobody seems to be on the same page, though.

Dean Ambrose was not, and never had been, a morning person. Today was no exception.

His phone's alarm jolted him awake at 8 am, and he opened his eyes with a groan.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Seth snickered from the other bed in the room. “I was about to check on ya to see if you were alive.”

“Ugh, close the windows, or turn the sun off.” Dean stretched his arms out and yawned, tipping an empty beer bottle over on the nightstand.

“Please clean your side of the room up. It smells like a brewery in here; a really filthy brewery.”

Dean looked over at his bespectacled partner, who was sitting cross-legged in bed with a tea sitting in his lap as he switched back and forth between his laptop and his phone. “Well sorry it doesn't smell like leather straps, lube, and Steph’s god-awful hairspray.”

Seth stopped typing mid-sentence and rolled his eyes silently at Dean.

“I’m sorry, I meant Bayley’s god-awful hairspray. Better?”

“Just clean your shit.” Seth went back to his laptop, taking a sip from his mug.

“Got it, _mom_.” Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed a grocery bag from the small, neat pile of items in an otherwise vacant corner of the room, then began tossing all his beer bottles into it.

“Are you gonna return those bottles, because I will.”

“Hey, I paid the deposit on’em, I want my money back,” Dean replied. “besides, if I had to hear your bitching about tossing bottles out again, I was gonna lose it.”

“...explain to me why you even took me up on my request to work together if all you're gonna do is complain about how I do things.”

Dean set the near-full bag down on the table next to him.“To be honest? You’re right. I need help. I need an extra pair of hands to trash the Miztourage with, and now that the Eurotrash Duo are in on this, five on two is a lot better than five on one.”

“Well, we need to pick one of the two groups to focus on first.”

Dean sat down at the table, facing Seth. “Hey, I'm not the one who dove headfirst into the obvious setup Sheamus tossed. He wanted you pissed, he wanted you off your game, and you fell for it! So really, this whole problem we’ve got doubled on your bullshit.”

“I can just leave.”

Dean scoffed and crossed his arms. “I don't think you can, now. Do you think I want your trouble? I don't. But now Sheamus and Cesaro are my problem, too. So, we go back to dealing with the Miztourage first and foremost. You're the brains around here, supposedly, so do you have any good ideas?”

“‘Supposedly’? Really? Are you gonna go there with me this morning?”

“Yeah, I am. So, answer my question.”

Seth closed his laptop and sighed. “I figure, we should catch them in an ambush. Take at least either Bo or Curtis out, if not both of them. Best time to do it would be while Miz is in the bathroom, since he’d be tied up in his own business and it would logically buy us the most amount of time possible to jump them uninterrupted.”

“So when do you wanna do that?”

“We take three days to monitor them, spot a possible pattern. If no pattern exists, we wait until next Monday to establish a better plan or analyze our findings to see if we missed something. Up to you.”

“Sounds good. When do we start?”

“Once you're ready and sobered up for the day.” Seth checked his phone, then smirked. “Also, Bayley wants to know if you have a favorite kind of coffee.” He looked up, seeing the full extent of Dean’s unamused face. “She just...that’s like, her ice breaker, I think. She likes to find that out first and foremost about people.”

He warned that girl about Seth; she obviously didn't care. Damn gullible girl must’ve knocked her brain loose on that apron shot.

“I'm not a coffee guy, you know that.”

Seth shrugged. “You might have started after we split up, I don't know…”

“Yeah, no. I'm not a coffee guy.” Dean shrugged. “Not that I've never downed a whole pot of that shit over there-” He pointed to the unused coffee pot and sterile-packed bag of grounds. “off a primal urge to keep awake, but I'd rather not.”

“How about tea?” Seth held his mug up.

Dean sighed, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. He began speaking in a soft tone, his voice steadily rising as he went on. “Have you ever had darjeeling? I’ve had it a few times, nobody makes tea bags of it or anything. But that’s good, by itself.”

“Yeah, she's not that demanding.” After a few moments, he snickered. “She wants to know if you want a side of Bailey’s creamer just in case.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Hardy har har. I know I'm a functioning alcoholic, but I can go one drink without it being loaded with booze. I hydrate, for Christ’s sake.”

“Man, you've got nobody to blame but yourself for your reputation.”

“It's not that bad, okay?”

Seth looked up from his phone with a “seriously?” look emanating from his visage. Dean huffed and crossed his arms.

“Let's just get down to business. Breakfast, workout, study. Let’s get going.”

“Fine. And just so you know, I plugged your phone in next to the coffee pot. It’s been blinking all night.” Dean opened his laptop back up.

“Oh, fuck…” Dean groaned and got up. “What’s so important that you needed the whole outlet at the nightstand?”

“Unlike you, I actually wanna keep connected to people via technology,” Seth snickered softly as Dean checked his alerts.

Mom, a boatload of texts. Shit.

“and I have been juggling several conversations for the last three hours. Checking in with the Hardys, checking on Bayley, in a hotbed of negotiations with Angle and Shane, an-”

“Wait, what was that last one?”

“...Negotiations?”

“What are you negotiating?” Dean stood up. “You’re not thinking of ditching me, are you?”

“Hell no, but I'd like to see what Shane would give me if I jump brands. Morbid curiosity.”

“Well, my contract’s up in September, but it's pretty much an auto-renewal at this point.”

“Same. But it doesn't hurt to make Shane grovel a bit. Any dig into a McMahon feels good, ya know?”

Dean smirked. “Can't wipe your record clean just by being petty. If ya could, I’d be squeaky as hell right now.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The two shared a moment of silence, and Seth’s phone sounded.

Dean took the moment to look over his messages.

_“It would be very much appreciated if you visited at least once while he’s in chemo.”_

__

_“I sent you the form, you just have to print it out and hand it to your doctor, okay?”_

_“Why are you upset at me? I wish you would answer me.”_

_“I know you can't be sleeping, you're a night owl. So please answer me back.”_

_“...look, I've made mistakes. So have you. Can you just forgive me? We both still love you very much.”_

What a bunch of over-emotional garbage.

He replied back rather to-the-point; _“How’s Jon holding up? I'm busy trying to get shit done at work, I'll visit when I have time.”_

Seth laughed. “Bayley is asking if you have a second favorite tea. I guess they don't sell your stuff here.”

“I don't want anything right now, okay?”

“...fine.” Seth gave a disappointed look and went back to his work.

“Listen, why don't you just go over to her hotel room and get this nonsense outta your system?”

“Because she's at the doctor's office, for one. And two, there’s nothing to ‘get out of my system’. I don't know why you keep making this a big deal. You sound like some whiny jealous teenager.”

“And you sound like a horny old mutt.”

Seth sighed, slamming his laptop shut. “Fine, I’m going downstairs. When you wanna get serious about shit today, I'll be waiting.” Seth angrily shuffled his things around, packed his things, and left.

Finally. Silence.

Dean’s phone buzzed.

_“He’s still your father, and he’d like to see you.”_

Dean glared at the message. _“He was never Father of the Year material when he was still technically my dad, but he's not even that now, so why would I?”_

He moved to his bed; sitting on something comfortable was better than sitting on the unforgiving solid wood chair. _“We still got half of this Maury episode to go so I can get my life on track. So how many of these forms do I need to print out?”_

_“Two. Because I want you to just submit one for your father anyways.”_

__

_“So one other guy? Could be worse, I guess.”_

_“Dean, please don't be like that.”_

Dean scratched the back of his neck. _“Do I know him?”_

The length of time that it took for her to respond was unnerving. 

_“Yes.”_

Dean ran his hand across his face, trying to calm down. He pitched the phone across the room and decided a long shower was in order.

Spending far longer than normal in the shower, and after a hard time shaving that resulted in several nicks and a vow to get a new razor, Dean grabbed an outfit for the day and picked his phone back up.

_“Who is he?”_

Dean grabbed his things and found Seth downstairs in the dining area, drinking his tea and still typing away between the two devices. Sitting around him was a half-eaten plate of toast with half an avocado’s worth of green healthy gunk caked on it, a southwest scramble with the other half of the avocado sitting atop it, and mug of coffee accompanied by a stuffed bacon and egg sandwich sitting across from him.

If he thought that buttering him up with breakfast was a wise idea...Seth was right.

Seth looked up at Dean and smirked.

“Bayley sends her regards and sent you a peace offering. Sorry about the coffee…”

She ordered him breakfast? Well, he could forgive her for taking Seth’s attention a bit, then. He sat down, realizing that the coffee wasn't black; kissed with a pinch of cream, the dark brown liquid smelled like it was on the red-eye side. Good girl.

He took a swing and realized she had ordered him a red-eye with quite genuine Irish cream in it. He made a face and looked at Seth, who looked up from his breakfast once he had noticed that Dean had made a slight choking sound.

“You okay?”

Dean swallowed hard. “Tell her I'm not amused by her rib.”

Seth’s eyes widened. “What did she do?”

“Spiked my damn coffee.”

Seth snorted. “I doubt she's ribbing you, man. She wouldn't rib Alexa, let alone you.”

“Man, she should. Rib that girl, that is. Like, kick her in the ribs for embarrassing her. Once she figures out to not be such a softie.”

“Not everybody’s gonna chase somebody down with a barbed wire bat for getting a little egg on their face, Dean.”

“I'm not suggesting a barbed wire bat, but she can't even handle a kendo stick, for fuck’s sake! She's a wrestler, she needs to toughen up or hang up her headband.”

“She's not the kind of wrestler we are, Dean. She's not out there, trying to prove herself like we do. She...she's not like us.”

“So when's the wedding date?” Dean took a long sip from his mug. It'd been a while since he started his mornings with alcohol and coffee at once.

Seth groaned, poking the food on his plate irritatedly. “We’re just being friendly with each other, Dean. Like, you know how to make friends, right?”

“I don't make googly eyes when I text Roman.”

“Maybe you should. He could use all the love he can get these days.”

“I'll slip him some tongue the next time I see’em,” Dean rolled his eyes and drank his coffee.

“Hell, I might do it myself,” Seth chuckled. “knowing our luck, Renee will be on top of us with a cameraman filming it.”

“And the fanfiction writers would all die a happy death.” Dean chuckled. “We can't have a ratings drop now, can we? Also a gay panic in the locker room.”

“It's not that big of a deal with everyone anymore, though. If that was a problem, well…” Seth looked into his eyes, boring holes into the back of of his eyes as he raised an eyebrow coyly.

“Let’s not start the day on that note, thanks.”

Seth merely went back to eating and paying attention to his laptop.

Dean grabbed the receipt for his coffee, which had been carefully placed nearby on the opposite side of the mug. 

God, this was expensive. Worth it.

He looked around, spotting an employee nearby. He got up, leaving the empty mug and taking the receipt.

“Hey miss,” he fumbled in his pockets, grabbing his wallet as she turned around. “Can I get another one of these in one of those carryout cups?”

She took the receipt and smiled. “Sure. We’ll add it to the room bill.”

He gave her a smile and a wink back. “Thanks,” he whipped out a single bill from his wallet. “and that is for you and you alone.”

“Thank you.” She took the bill and slipped it in her apron pocket. “Anything else?”

“Nah. Where do I gotta go to pick this up?”

“The cafe in about five minutes.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. You have a good one.” 

He left her and scurried back to his seat, where Seth looked nearly done. “C’mon, we got shit to do…”


	17. Cast-Off VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Nero observes and confronts House Hardy's nefarious captive in an attempt to create a more harmonious environment for all.

Brother Nero surveyed the near-empty barnyard. The sun had eked its way through several holes in the roof, and as it rose, it shone through as brightly as it could. It was fairly cold, given that he had no sleeves to his robe to stave off the chill.

It was apparent that the cold was more adversely affecting the prone form of Finn Balor, though. It hadn't moved an inch from where it had been collapsed by the malignant being known only to him as Balor several hours before. Signs of mild exposure were starting to show; paleness, shivering, lips a few shades purple-ish than usual. He was alive, as he had begged to be capable of maintaining; still a request that boggled him.

Most curious of all, perhaps, was that now that he had been removed of the wall of Darkness, his legion, a dull light seemed to emanate from his body. Clearly the Passenger that was Balor had been...fashioned from the Light in some way? Perhaps speaking to him would clear things up.

“Balor.” Nero waited for a response for several moments, then realized that, perhaps, his calling out wasn't what Balor required to respond.

“Balor, awaken.”

His eyes opened slowly, the rest of him still motionless. 

“Balor, rise to your feet.”

He slowly shambled his way up to his feet, standing at attention, his ice blue eyes trying to bore a hole through Nero’s face.

“Balor, you may relax, and speak to me freely.”

“Fuck you,” Balor dropped to the floor in a cross-legged position, slightly slumped, still glaring.

“Quite a...droll choice of first words.”

“What’ve y’done t’my Prince?!” Balor seethed, trying to reach out but stopping just short of the shimenawa rope’s boundary. He recoiled, snarling instead.

“The Brothers of Good instructed us on how to keep your nefarious powers in check, so if you thought you might manage to escape this compound without our say so, you are sorely mistaken.”

“As I’ve noticed.” Balor pouted. “Now, where’s my Prince?”

Nero found the question curious, arching an eyebrow momentarily. “Whom is this ‘Prince’ you speak of?”

Balor snickered to himself. “Ah, yes, in all’f yer infinite wisdom, y’can't possibly compre’end what a’mean. I mean Finn, ya dolt. T’spiritual manifestation’f m’host. I can’t sense’m, I can't hear’m, and ah sure’s’hell can't get any permissions from’m, which you’ve come t’find’s somet’in’ y’can use t’just amuse yerself wit’.”

“I find it peculiar that a being of your caliber, one that subjugates legions of lesser beings, itself, can be so easily subjugated. I'm not here to humiliate you, merely ascertain your origin and derive methods to keep Brother Finn safe in your presence, before we can request that he be released from the protection of the Seven Deities.”

Balor cackled. “Y’t’ink I want t’hurt’m? I break’m, I’ave not’in’. Speaking’f, he's hungry, cold, and in need’f t’facilities, and prob’ly a doctor; pos’bly not t’last if I could obtain t’ot’er t’ree.”

“When I am finished speaking with you.”

“And when will t’at be?”

“When you have answered all of my questions.”

Balor growled.

“Fine. What d’y’wish t’know?”

Nero folded his hands behind himself, walking carefully around the barrier they had constructed around the Demon King. One false move, and he could knock everything out of alignment, allowing his legions to spill in and allow him to escape.

“I wish to know your source of origin. As you sit, naked and exposed from outside your legions hiding you, I can see quite clearly that you are a being of the Light. But you function as a creature of Darkness, harnessing legions of these weak little shadelings to do your bidding. Or, perhaps, you do theirs?”

“I do as I please, I simply ask t’em for t’will t’do so.”

“The will? So you have none of your own. What kind of strange creature has no willpower…?” Nero circled around Balor, looking him up and down. “You are not a creature forged by the Seven Deities, and you are not someone rendered obsolete by the Darkness…”

“Where are yer Seven Deities anyways? Y’keep ramblin’ about t’em, but I've never heard’f t’em.”

Nero stepped back. “Ah, so you are from another plane of Light! I understand now; the Seven Deities must have known this before we could comprehend it. So your plane of Light creatures take to enslaving the Darkness often?”

“No, not us’lly. And I don't enslave t’em, t’ey come willin’ly. T’ey're lonely, too. We’re lonely toget’er, all’f us. Even Finn.” Balor smiled warmly, tilting his head precariously to its side, and rolling it back until the neck could move no farther.

“I see.”

Balor snapped his head back, turning to face Nero with a narrowed glare. “I don't t’ink’y’do. Y’t’ink’m just a disease y’can cure. You all do. But we made a pact; none’f y’can just cut me out like a tumor, only he can. But if he hasn't t’ought me a problem before, he simply can't t’ink me t’be one now.”

“We could convince him.”

“But y’wouldn't. I'm t’only t’ing t’at's kept’m upright some nights, in’n’out’f t’at ring. I dare y’t’make t’at case to him. Y’wouldn't dare.”

“Now I'm amused. You think I wouldn't if I thought there wasn't anything I could do to reconcile your erratic and dangerous behavior with you. What we have requested the Seven Deities to do to his Essence, we could have it simply reversed. Lock you up in an impervious aegis, and speak to Brother Finn directly until we could get him to consider whether he truly wishes to keep your hazardous Essence within him or not,” Nero laughed. “But we will keep him quarantined until he finally agrees with us...or you can agree to abrogate your own toxicity and follow a more divine path, with all that power you wield.”

“And how’ould y’salvage’is flound’rin’ standin’? Cruelty gets ya attention, same’n ev’ry territory. I put a man’n hospital, on t’bench’a few mont’s, t’at gets t’crowds talkin’. T’ey have t’look’t me, feature me’n a match, whet’er it's punishment’r not.”

Nero shook his head. “That’s all this is about?”

“When t’ey marginalized m’dear Prince across t’way, I brut’lized everyt’ing’n m’path. Gave no quarter, took no pris’ners. I made t’em respect me, worship me as t’man who would save t’eir sad little territ’ry from mediocrity. Now look what they've done t’ere!”

Balor’s eyes lit up as he sat up and continued. “T’ey still speak my name, so many years removed from t’eir halls, my partners’re still revered, and everyone t’ey associate with becomes a livin’ demi-god! And wit’every day t’at passes, every whisper’f my greatness t’ey make’n the dark, t’more power I gather. And t’at power lets me make m’Prince do extr’ordin’ry t’ings, like t’ey say he does.”

Nero mulled over Balor’s words. 

“So what can you’n’yer Seven Deities do t’assist me?”

Nero began to pace in front of the circle’s edge, gesturing periodically as he spoke. “Well, you certainly seem to like groups. If you focus yourself upon obtaining one of the titles, we would be more than happy to give you all the praise you desire. Fire up a crowd, stand in your corner, fight with you. But, you would have to abandon this change in attitude. It doesn't suit Brother Finn to be violent and unhinged. We will also have to rectify and explain this to the public. So. If you are willing to humble yourself and do things in the House Hardy way, I would be more than willing to convince Brother Moore that you are no longer a hazard, that partitioning you from Brother Finn is no longer necessary.”

Balor seemed to brood over the words, sitting still and quietly. It felt like an eternity before he spoke.

“An’what’f I don’t agree t’t’ese terms?”

“Then I hope you enjoy the view from this barn,” Nero smirked. “I will give you time to think it over quietly; you no longer have permission to speak.” Nero spun around and walked out, giving a small hand gesture to Senor Benjamin and Vanguard 1, who were waiting outside the door frame.

The two shuffled inside, closing the doors to the barn behind them. Nero slipped his phone from his pocket, rolling down his contacts until he found Matt’s number.

_I think we can appeal to him in some way, but he's being too stubborn. I have Senor Benjamin and Vanguard 1 keeping an eye on him._

_WONDERFUL news. Tell me of your plans later; I am almost in conference with the MEEKMAHANS regarding last night’s incident._

Brother Nero continued back to the main house, where Queen Reby stood with the sleeping Lord Wolfy in her arms.

“So?”

“Prepare a barbecue feast. I'll get the grilling stations set up near the barn.”

“Carne asada? Pork ribs?”

“A nice healthy mix. And plenty of it; Balor has a large stomach.”

“Well then you'd better help me out with the kids.”

\-----

A few hours of preparation, table setting, and joyful grilling, Senor Benjamin emerged from the barn, approaching Brother Nero.

“Balor quiere hablar contigo.”

“Oh, is that so?” Nero chuckled. “Well then, summon the Brothers of Good to assist us in transporting our nefarious guest.”

Brother Nero walked into the barn to find Balor silently flailing, trying to break the iron restraints under his own power. Not quite surprisingly, he had managed to yank the chain linking the cuffs apart, leaving them connected by the long length of iron chain, an obstacle he was finding a slightly more challenging task.

He didn't seem to register that Brother Nero had walked in, and the younger Hardy brother took the opportunity to inch up to the rope line and lean precariously into its outer edge.

“Balor?” 

He looked up, stunned by the seemingly sudden appearance of Brother Nero.

“I was informed that you wish to talk…? You are permitted to do so.”

“You're a right bastard, y’know that?”

Nero smirked. “So, do you wish to join us?”

“If y’stop torturing m’Prince t’is way, and relinquish yer hold on’em, I would be more t’an willin’t’give’t a go.”

Brother Nero pensively nodded his head and stood silent for a moment, waiting to hear the sound of Anderson’s and Gallows’s boots at the doorway of the barn.

Balor’s eyes widened, rising to his feet and backing to the opposite side of the circle as they approached, stepping over the ring boundary and grabbing Balor by an arm apiece. Brother Nero then calmly nudged the shimenawa open at the seam with the tip of his boot. 

Balor inhaled sharply, slowly blinked, then tensed up, on guard as Brother Nero stepped into the now-opened circle’s remaining circumference, procuring a key from his pocket and unlocking the handcuffs.

“I trust that you will not spring upon us as we lead you to whatever room you need to be in to situate your vessel’s necessities…?”

“I can behave if I want…” Balor glared.

“I ain’t for puttin’ Finn in the hospital, so…” Karl commented.

“Aw, how sweet,” Balor rolled his eyes, then smiled widely. “too sweet, in fact.” He chuckled, garnering glares from the Good Brothers.

“Come,” Brother Nero turned to face the doorway. “we have much to talk about.”


	18. Antipode II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth and Dean go forward with the plan to wreck The Miztourage...but previous problems still linger.

“So what’s in the trunk that we have to look at?”

Dean was being less than cooperative as he sipped his alcohol-laced coffee. Seth sighed; he wanted Dean to be 100% with him on this. Granted, it probably wasn’t going to be a good response, given how he had flipped out about the teeshirt before, but…

What else did he have to show his commitment to this alliance? Seth had to bare his soul a bit, he surmised.

“I...I still have stuff. I kept a lot of stuff and...I wanna use it tonight.”

“Stuff?” Dean took a sip of his coffee; he wasn’t quite feeling it, Seth could feel it. “What, like, like, a bat or somethin’? Handcuffs? Nightstick? Steel chair? What?”

Seth opened up his trunk to reveal quite a bit of open space.

“A whole lot of nothing. Well, I mean, yeah that works too bu-”

Seth groaned, then fiddled with a hidden compartment in the bottom, sliding the panel back to reveal a small collection of clothing and gear of great sentimentality.

Dean stood silently, looking the old gear over with a hard-to-read look upon his face. Seth was worried about his incoming reaction; was it revulsion?

“...I don't know why you bothered.”

Seth felt the knife in his chest twist a bit.

“I wanted to remind myself of what I had sacrificed to get where I got, really. Carried it with me, same as the teeshirt.” Seth sighed heavily.

“So, what? You want me to forget what happened? You want me to forget what happened after that? You wanna just go back and do all that fun Shield shit after what we put each other through?”

Seth shook his head. “I know it won't be the same. You'll always be suspicious of me, I know. You're suspicious right now, that's not gonna stop. In fact, I'm suspicious of me, too. But I know that we were the happiest we could be when we were in The Shield. And the fans, they would love to see us back together with Roman. So, just for tonight, even though it's a dinky little house show, let's give them what they want. And hey, you might have some fun doing it.”

“Well, I love making the fans happy...or at least enjoy themselves for a night…” Dean sighed deeply. “...I’ll go get my vest…”

Seth's eyes widened. “You still have your vest?”

“Yeah. I figured I'd keep it if Roman wanted to do something.”

Seth chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “And here you had me feeling like an idiot for keeping my tactical gear…”

“Well, I'm not the backstabber here, so it's not dumb for me to keep mine, ya know?” Dean shrugged, then began making his way towards Roman’s car as he fiddled with his phone. “I'll be back…”

 

\-----

Several hours of tracking the Miztourage’s movements, and a very sly payoff to a rigging crew member, led Seth and Dean to perfectly positioning themselves above the ring before their match with the trio.

Of course middle management had to be in on it, but everybody promised to keep the plan on the downlow. Seth still had pull amongst the grunts, even if his Authority days were long over, and sometimes it paid off. 

Dean seemed approving of his slightly line-treading tactics for the most part, when he wasn't busy fiddling with his vest.

“Doesn't feel like it fits me right. Think I must’ve put on some weight.”

“Gotta cut back on the marathon nightcaps, pal.” Seth teased and slapped Dean’s gut jokingly; Dean just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

They ran into Broken Matt on their way to the rigging, and the zealous Hardy brother was more than ecstatic to see them in their old gear. Many well-wishes for their match and more shows of gratitude to Seth for his help with Bayley came their way before the elder Hardy continued on his self-designated path.

Seth honestly couldn't understand a lot of what was up with Matt. But then again, Seth was certain he'd actually have to believe wholeheartedly in whatever Matt thought was going on with Finn, and frankly, he couldn't bring himself to start trying to.

There were more important things, like patching this relationship up with Dean.

Dean was quiet, for the most part. Normally Seth would be begging for him to quiet down and let him think, but it seemed like today was the opposite. The Lunatic Fringe was very perceptibly lost in thought, and Seth was certain that he was just going over the plan in his head.

Seth was certainly thinking about the entirety of the emotional tie-in of the situation enough for the both of them.

But for now, it was time to set up and secure their gear for the show. Feelings had to wait.

\-----

Seth and Dean split a concession stand pretzel in the rafters as they watched the show from above. Carefully concealed behind several girders, they checked their carabiners between matches and talked strategy. It felt strange to Seth, having Dean on his side after so long, after everything they put each other through. Maybe there was a chance they could just set it all aside…

_“Quiet on the set, can we please have quiet on the set…?”_

Showtime.

Dean and Seth shifted to the side of the girder they were perched on, waiting for Seth’s music to hit. 

There that clown was with his goons, all smiling brightly and wearing stupid outfits. He looked over to Dean, both making eye contact and reassuring each other they knew what to do.

The trio paraded around below them, oblivious to their trap. Seth snickered, mentally patting himself on the back for such a smart plan.

And then his music hit. They all took the bait, setting themselves perfectly into position; Seth could only shake his head in bewilderment at how stupid they all were. As the crowd shouted along with the song, Dean and Seth kicked off from the girder, dropping their ropes to the mat below. They stealthily slid down to the mat, inches behind the trio, but more importantly, directly behind Curtis and Bo.

In a swift set of motions, the duo unlatched the bandoliers and the weighted sacks around their waists, latched them to the belt loops of Axel and Dallas, and watched in amusement as the two howled in terror as they careened upwards towards the rafters.

Their cries reached The Miz’s ears, alerting him to the back attack, and he stood in fear at the sight before him: two members of The Shield, tactical gear, face masks, and all, staring him down with joyous murder dancing in their eyes.

Both charged the short distance, arms outstretched, colliding with Miz and launching him over the top rope. With the impact the bell rang, and both Dean and Seth looked to each other, then ran for the ropes behind them, diving between the middle, and over the top, ropes respectively at the precise angles to both collide with Miz in a pile of bodies.

The referee began the ten count and the duo scrambled to their feet, picking Miz up and dragging the shaken man still in his entrance attire back inside the ring. Backing up and giving Miz the time to stand, Dean and Seth were caught off guard by Miz unzippering his coat and swinging it in their direction in a whip-like fashion.

Miz took the opportunity to pick a target: launching himself at Dean, he toppled the Lunatic Fringe and began to pummel him. Seth ran over and kicked Miz in the chest, knocking him back and away from Dean, who had taken to scrambling away from Miz once he was free.

Miz tumbled away, sliding under the ropes and backing away, realizing he was completely outnumbered and outmatched. Seth charged for a suicide dive, and Dean rolled out after Miz. The crafty heel dove to avoid Seth, but found himself right in the way of a spear from the Lunatic Fringe, and soon all three men were on the floor once again. Seth curled up in a ball to recover as the crowd whipped into a frenzy.

Dean kept the match going, getting up and dragging Miz back into the ring as Seth recovered. A few flung fists, a few DDT’s, and Dean was looking strong, though Miz was barely putting up a fight save for a few opportunistic kicks and a clothesline. Seth got to his feet, then crawled back through the ropes.

Seth rose to his feet, only for Miz to kick him in the ribs and knock the wind out of him. Before Seth could respond, Dean had slid underneath Miz, rolled him up in a schoolboy fashion, and widened the gap between his partner and his prey.

Grabbing the A-Lister by the mop of hair on his head and locking him in place, Dean hooked both of his arms and dropped Miz clean with a Dirty Deeds. Shifting positions for the pin, Dean finished the match off himself as Seth moved to his side.

Dean beamed and, to Seth’s surprise, tightly embraced him for a moment before realizing where he was and snapping away, looking slightly disgusted with himself, standing up and moving away, facing the ramp with his backs to the ropes.

Seth rose to his feet, his thoughts in disarray. Dean’s affection was genuine, if ephemeral. Seth reached out, his hand, and with it all of himself, looking for something actually tangible. The crowd roared enthusiastically, but Dean stood silently, bandana solidly hiding the lower half of his face still, somehow having forgotten to remove it. His eyes were darting between the outstretched hand and the three walls of screaming fans around them.

Dean reached out, and Seth knew it was time. Turning his hand over, Seth simply clenched his hand into a fist. Dean recoiled, staring in...contempt?...as the crowd howled, sliding his hands through his hair and exhaling roughly.

Completely unnoticed by Dean, Sheamus and Cesaro shot down the ramp, eyes locked on the Lunatic Fringe. Seth couldn't let this happen; damning the consequences, he reached out and yanked Dean towards him, putting himself between Dean and The Bar.

At first Dean had protested, kicking and howling, but once Sheamus hit the ring, Dean went silent, observing Seth’s actions. Cesaro swung around, attempting to cut the duo off from escape, but Seth merely coiled around Dean as Sheamus charged with a Brogue Kick.

The impact dropped both to the mat, and Cesaro seized the opportunity, sliding in and grabbing at Dean.

“Back off, Swiss Miss!” Dean swatted at the Swiss man’s hands, trying to keep him away as Sheamus relentlessly stomped Seth’s back and neck. 

Suddenly, the Hardy Boyz music hit, and all attention diverted to the entrance ramp. Broken Matt charged down alone, and Sheamus left to greet him as Cesaro continued trying to pull Dean and Seth apart.

Seth held on for dear life, knowing full well what Cesaro planned to do if he let go. Cesaro only managed to drag them farther off the mat and closer to himself. Seth climbed up Dean’s body, inching closer to Cesaro’s hands, and eventually his digits were within reach. Seth reached up and smashed a clenched fist down on Cesaro’s fingers to no avail.

“Get your fucking hands off of him!”

“No way, pretty boy!” Cesaro grinned wolfishly, yanking harder. In desperation, Seth spit at Cesaro, hitting him in the face and causing the Swiss Cyborg to let go and wipe away the spittle. Seth rolled off of Dean, letting him up.

“Brother Tyler! Brother Jonathan! Make haste! I will DELETE these scapegraces in your stead!”

Seth and Dean rolled from the ring and charged into the crowd, rushing up the steps in double time through the frenzied masses just trying to get a touch or a snapshot.

Seth stayed hovered around Dean backstage, kept close in the locker room, but Dean seemed rattled by the post-match encounter.

“I think I'm gonna head up with Roman tonight, alright?” Dean looked exhausted, so suddenly. “He said he's got some surprise for me or something. You know how he is.”

Seth shook his head; Roman spoiled Dean sometimes, honestly.

“Alright. Catch you tomorrow.”

Dean sauntered out, suitcase rolling behind him, holding his forehead. A migraine, again? Roman had a bottle of Excedrin in the glove compartment, if his car was set up as it used to be; he probably figured out Dean was unwell before Seth had the chance. No wonder he was quiet for so long.

He had to be more attentive to Dean’s well-being from now on. Clearly his migraines were getting to be more of a problem than they used to be.

Seth sighed, checking his phone. Several e-mails from Corporate, several texts from Bayley from several hours ago.

_So, def not making Summerslam._

_My shoulder is so messed up, Seth…_

_All I can really think about is how weird Finn is being though. He was fine just a few days ago._

_Can't help but blame myself, ya know? Gotta go see if there's anything I can do._

Seth shook his head; the poor girl was all twisted in knots. He replied with a simple well-wishing “Good luck” and turned his phone off.

Well, the celebrations were off for tonight...best to answer the e-mails.


	19. Devotion IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bayley decides that maybe checking on Finn at the Hardy Compound would be a good idea. Unfortunately for her, it's not Finn she's going to be visiting...

Why am I even here? Matt and Jeff said it probably wasn't safe for me to visit...and what if he goes for my arm again…?

Bayley sighed deeply, drawing the attention of the cab driver as they reached the gates of the Hardy Compound.

The sun began to begin to fall, and she pulled her phone from her sling. She needed to relieve some of her anxieties; she knew just who to text.

_So, def not making Summerslam._

_My shoulder is so messed up, Seth…_

_All I can really think about is how weird Finn is being though. He was fine just a few days ago._

_Can't help but blame myself, ya know? Gotta go see if there's anything I can do._

The gates opened, and inside the cab drove, straight to the front door. Bayley forked over the money as Señor Benjamin walked around to grab her belongings from the trunk.

“Hola, Señorita Rose! Hermano Nero te está esperando en el granero.”

“Oh? Is that in the back?”

“Si.”

“Ah. Gracias, Señor Benjamin.” She smiled for the first time all day as she made her way around the grounds.

She found Brother Nero meditating outside of the small barn, and jumped when he moved.

“Good afternoon, Sister Rose.” His eyes traveled to her shoulder as he rose from his position. “I see all is not well.”

“Yeah, I’m out of Summerslam.”

“Quite unfortunate, Brother Moore and I were looking forward to your triumph over the Furious Five-Footer.” Nero looked back. “However, the Brothers of Good are here to assist us in keeping the nefarious entity known as Balor at bay for your safety during your visit.”

“Is he okay…?” Bayley cautiously looked around Brother Nero, taking a peek inside. Finn appeared to be asleep in the middle of a rope ring decorated with those little paper things they hung in the temples in Japan.

“He is subdued, for the time being. Once I set him upon us, however…”

“Set him...huh?”

Brother Nero shook his head and wrapped his arm around her back, placing a hand against her good shoulder. “Come inside and we’ll wake him up.”

The farther into the barn she walked, the eerier the scene became. She could swear a few nearby shadows had moved slightly, it was so terrifying.

Finn was shackled with old-timey handcuffs bolted into the floor, and salt lined the outside of the ring; there were markings on the inside that she were certain were some sort of thing from a supernatural horror movie. He had been still, barely breathing as they approached, not moving an inch.

Finn had an unhealthy attachment to being dramatic at times, sure. But this was getting ridiculous, even for him.

Gallows and Anderson sat relaxing on the opposite side of the ring, giving Bayley reassuring smiles as she and Brother Nero approached.

“Balor, arise and speak with us.”

Like a toy puppet on strings, Finn slowly arched up, glaring at Brother Nero as he rose to his feet. However, upon spotting Bayley, his entire demeanor changed. He plastered a Cheshire Cat grin across his face, arching his neck back as he chuckled.

“Heeeeeey, Bayley~”

The sing-song tone of his voice was something she hadn’t quite noticed beforehand; he was tiredly singing the song they sang overseas to her in admiration. It was what he had done in the hospital wing earlier, too…

“Don’t do that.”

Finn arched his head back to a more normal position, looking crestfallen.

“Good t’see y’too…” Very crestfallen. 

He sounded exhausted, or drunk; didn’t some study say that both were just as bad for you…? Bayley shook her head, then mustered a mothering look; disappointed, concerned, angry. “First off, what the hell is all this...nonsense?”

Finn sneered. “T’ey t’ink t’ey should keep me in’ere fer your safety. You aren't in danger, Bayley. I jus’wanna fix what I've done, is all.” He held his hands out, displaying palms and fingers looking irritated and blistered, jumping slightly aback as he kept within a hair’s width from his side of the rope.

“Are you okay?” Bayley took a step back.

He looked down at his hands. “Oh. Well, t’ey buried t’brisket under t’spare ribs. T’was worse, Good Ol’ Machine Gun gave me t’is lil pink pill. Knocked me right out…” Finn smirked.

Bayley shook her head and smirked back; there was something mildly infectious about his cheerful demeanor, even while shackled like a prisoner in some fairy tale dungeon.

“Well, I came to check on you and to see if I could help you out. So...what's wrong with you?”

Finn’s mood drastically shifted as shook his head, sneering and turning away. “T’ere y’go again, yam’rin’ like’m some sort’ve disease, some plague t’cure…” He turned back around. “T’at’s why a’did what a’did in t’first place! An’y’stand’ere, still wantin’t’do it!” He lunged forwards, hands outstretched and aimed for Bayley’s neck, once again stopping just short of the boundary. 

Bayley cowered slightly against Brother Nero, and both Gallows and Anderson stood up and walked over slowly, making Finn cower back a few steps while chuckling. “Pardon, darlin’. Y’know just how t’say t’ings t’at stab at me, y’know?” A weak sigh left his lips. “T’at’s how we’re’ere now, m’dear. Now, I’m calm, please,” He gestured to her to cross the rope line. “let me pluck t’at curse right out.”

“Curse?”

Finn scratched the back of his head nervously. “Aye, fergive me, m’dear...I may have...jumped t’gun a bit...wit’all yer cure talkin’...yer’a lovely lass, but I just couldn’t let y’talk’im into t’ings…”

“Who?”

“My lil Prince. Oh, he’d walk off’a cliff if y’asked’im to…”

Bayley still didn’t understand; Finn hadn’t ever brought up a “prince” up in their conversations before…

“Balor, be clear.” Brother Nero crossed his arms.

Finn gave an annoyed look. “I mean Finn.” Bayley blinked, quite confused. “Didja t’ink ot’erwise?”

Bayley had come to understand that, much like the rest of the world, in wrestling there were some...unusual elements. Some would call them supernatural, some would call them gimmicked. The Undertaker was certainly unnatural, and one could make the argument that men like Bray and even Finn tapped into something outside the norm. Bayley grew up being in wide-eyed wonder of it all, and even though the luster had faded, she still thought there was still something unexplainable about some things.

She’d indulge Finn until she could understand exactly what she was dealing with. “So who...or what...are you?”

Finn grinned widely, clearing his throat. “My Prince calls me Balor; I am t’Demon King.” Bayley felt a shiver up her spine.

“...oh.” Bayley nodded. “And how long have you...been in Finn’s body, I guess, is the best question.”

“Long before you’n’im met, lass. While you were out t’ere collectin’ autographs’n’pictures, I was gettin’m’bearin’s across t’pond with dear ol’Finn.”

Bayley nodded, playing along. “So where is Finn?”

“Ask him.” He gestured to Brother Nero.

“We have asked the assistance of the Seven Deities to shield and protect Brother Finn’s Essence while Brother Moore, the Brothers of Good, and myself sought to deal with the nefarious Balor. While we seem to have come to a concordance in some form-”

Balor held his hands off to showcase the handcuffs. “Y’call T’IS a c’ncord’nce?”

“In some form,” Brother Nero smirked. “as I was saying; though we have come to a concordance with Balor for the time being, we have been unable to reach Brother Finn from within the requested aegis. Brother Moore and I have come to the conclusion that the Seven Deities are presenting us with a challenge, which will release Brother Finn from the aegis, and thus allow him to resurface, once we have figured it out.”

“So...Finn’s stuck in his own head?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“That sounds like something a doctor should look at.” Bayley replied. “I don’t know about all of...this. But no, seriously, Finn. Balor, whatever you are.” Bayley leaned in, staying on her side of the rope ring. “Please. Help yourself.”

“I will do t’at.” Balor nodded. “Now, let me help you.”

“With what, this ‘curse’ thing?”

“I wouldn’t mock my power, lass.” Balor rolled his neck ever so slowly and methodically from his left shoulder to his right, baring his throat as long as he could before then rolling it back to its typical position. “My touch’s potent, my curses stay until I call’em back. Ah know y’know, you’ve seen it before, just how bad it can become…”

Bayley shook her head; she’d heard enough. “Okay, listen. I’ve played along with this, but I’m done. Real world, reality stuff, I’ve got my share. You...you need help. Professional help.”

“Bayley, please listen.” 

“I have, and I think you don’t need another CAT Scan; no, you need like, therapy. You’re stressed out, really stressed out. We all are. But you...you’ve snapped. And, that’s okay. It’s been really rough lately.”

“Bayley, it’s only gonna get worse.”

Bayley tossed her uninjured arm into the air. “You’re getting worse!” Balor leaned back, deflating a bit.

“...fine. Go.” He waved her off, looking to Brother Nero. “fer t’record, I tried. Did m’good deed.” His eyes slid back to gaze at Bayley. “No matter what ah say, y’still stand t’ere, sayin’t’same t’ing. T’ere’s not’in’t’help, lass. Well, not’in’a doctor could fix.” He shook his head, looking slightly down. “I s’pose I’ve been a bad lil demon king...lyin’t’my gen’r’us Prince’n’all, decievin’m…” He sighed. “I guess I'll hav’t’work t’at out b’tween ourselves…” Balor chuckled softly, a smile peeking out briefly before retreating, before looking back at Bayley. “Please reconsider my offer. It's just sittin’t’ere, stickin’ out. I could just easily pluck it, if you would let me.”

Bayley sighed deeply. It wasn't such a terrible offer, but would she be doing more harm to him by indulging his desires.

“I gotta go…” Bayley began inching away backwards towards the barn door.

“Bayley, please. We’ll bot’regret t’is if y’don’t.”

“Then, I guess we will!” Bayley tossed her left arm up in defeat with a miserable grin. Balor slumped, then dropped to the floor.

Bayley turned around and left in a huff, making her way back to the house. Opening up the back patio into the kitchen proved a daunting task for only one arm, and the scuffle with the door alerted Reby.

“Here, I have it, dear…” Reby smiled, setting a supportive hand to Bayley’s back.

Bayley looked around, sighing. “I don't know if staying here to help is gonna work out.”

“At least stay the night? You get a nice home-cooked meal and we have already set a guest room up for you.”

Bayley sighed deeply and nodded. “Sure...thanks.”

Reby smiled warmly, leading Bayley up to her room.

The queen-sized bed was loaded with twice as many pillows as needed, and two nightstands flanked the basic cherrywood frame. The windows sat above the bed, allowing the waning sunlight to shine in every corner of the room, framed with light curtains. Doors leading to a private bathroom and a small balcony sat on opposite sides of the room. Inside sat a small desk and chair, waiting for things to be written upon it, and a small dresser with a full-length mirror adhered to the back of the door.

Bayley’s suitcases sat at the root of the bed.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

\-----

Bayley came down as the dinner bell rang, and down at the middle of the table sat Broken Matt, looking exhausted but elated.

“Ah! Sister Rose! I was informed of your continued residence en mi casa for this eve! Come! IMBIBE the fruits, and perhaps the vegetables and meat, of this gathering!”

Bayley weakly smiled, but took a seat next to Brother Nero. A single seat sat open, nothing placed down.

“I see we have a vacancy…”

“Our less-than-temperate guest requested to dine alone,” Brother Nero spoke up. “to keep our other guest placated.”

Bayley felt the tips of her ears burn. “Is he at least gonna eat?” She queried.

“He has requested any form of leftovers, so long as he doesn’t have anything contaminated, as he had earlier.”

“We can certainly meet his requests, given his more DOCILE state.”

“When we left, he was quite laeotropic and didn't wish to be disturbed.”

“Yeah, he was all curled up and quiet-like.” Anderson added.

“As I said.” Brother Nero smirked. “So, dinner?”

Bayley didn't feel much like eating, but she did her best. Sitting across from such a gracious host like Matt freaking Hardy, and next to his brother Jeff, did little to raise her mood. The stabbing pain in her shoulder refused to quit.

Dinner came and went, and Bayley decided that the balcony was a nice place to sit and relax.

The wind was silent, all lights off in the barn, save for a small fire Gallows and Anderson made outside, sharing stories, occasionally looking inside.

The shadows around her fluttered, not moving quite right. She was just tired.

It was best to just leave the lamp light on while sleeping...yeah.

She curled up in bed and turned the side lamp on, doing her best to get a good night's rest.


	20. Inheritance V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds him self in a simultaneously comfortable and uncomfortable spot as he retreats to the safe place of his other brother's care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my betas (as well as a few international buddies of mine) have informed me that the two food items heavily spotlit in the chapter are...well, not as well known as I assumed? So I'll explain them here real quick:
> 
> \- Poutine is a French Canadian dish consisting of french fries, gravy (usually a beef-based one), and cheddar curds. It's very precise, as the cheddar curds are applied right after cooking, and left to melt and get gooey; the consistency of the cheese juxtaposed against the fries and gravy is paramount to the dish, hence why some people might be...picky about it.
> 
> \- Disco Fries are a Northeastern American variant of poutine (and available in a lot of diners up in my neck of the woods), and the main difference is the cheese used; typically a shredded cheddar is used, keeping the overall flavor of the dish but losing the valued consistency.
> 
> So Dean's kinda just being persnickety. But I realized very quickly that this nuance is lost on way more people than I thought. @_@ My bad.
> 
> And now on to the chapter!

“Hey, uh, thanks man.”

Dean gave a momentary smile through the open passenger window of the black SUV.

“No problem, Dean,” Roman smiled warmly, waving Dean in. “everything packed tight?”

“Yeah, everything’s in there. I got it, I got it…” Dean slid into the passenger side of the car, quickly buckling in and leaning the seat back slightly for a better resting position.

“You alright?”

“Got another migraine.” Dean rolled on his left side, looking up at Roman as he did his best to cradle his head.

“I got some painkillers in the middle compartment there, if you want one.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Roman looked over as he started up the SUV. “Just two at most this time.”

“Yeah, okay _Mom_.” Dean opened the middle armrest, pulling out the travel-sized pill bottle and taking two, swallowing them dry.

“You should have something with those…” Roman leaned back and grabbed something from the small turtle-covered bag attached to his seat, holding up a juicebox.

Dean furrowed his brows. “I’m not five.”

“Yeah well, we’re all out of cheese and crackers until we hit a gas station, brother. So sip away.”

Dean feigned irritation and took the juicebox, sipping away as Roman started the SUV and began to leave.

The two silently cruised through town, the silence broken by the gurgling empty straw.

Roman smirked. “Feeling better?”

“My head hurts a little less, if that's what you mean,” Dean tossed the juice box into the back seat area. “but I'm still a fucking trainwreck.”

“I gotcha. If you wanna play some music, have at it.”

Dean leaned, turning the radio on. The radio scanned the new frequencies, landing on a sports talk radio station.

“-and we’ll have the final score for you in just a few moments. Now, back to the hottest story in town; The Shield was back in action tonig-”

Dean popped the radio back off, grimacing.

“Great. See, this is what I get for following any of Seth’s ideas. You'd think I'd learn by now not to.” He scrunched his nose. “I think I'm gonna need more pills.”

“Not for another four hours, at least.”

“Whatever, Doc.” Dean rolled his eyes.

Roman snickered. “Whatcha want for dinner?”

Dean curled up and closed his eyes. “Poutine.”

“We’re in Montreal next week, Dean. You can get poutine then.”

“I’ll settle for steak fries and gravy then. If I get cheese sticks or something, it'll do."

“I’ll try to find a place with gravy fries.”

“There’s no 24-hour diners around here? What a crappy town.”

“We’ll probably find a diner on the freeway, calm down.”

“It's always a diner on the freeway…” Dean grumbled, his eyelids growing heavy. “wake me up when we get there…”

“You got it.”

\-----

Dean awoke to the sensation of the car’s engine turning off. The warm comfort of a brightly colored fleece blanket tucked around him drew his attention; he knew he hadn't fallen asleep wrapped in it… 

“We’re here.” Roman unbuckled Dean, then opened his own door. “took me an hour and a half, but I found a place.”

Dean groaned. “I'm super comfortable…”

“C’mon, this was your idea…” Roman sighed and left the car, unlocking everything before walking around and opening Dean’s door. “I will carry you in if you don't move.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time, Ro~”

Roman rolled his eyes, shook his head, and pulled Dean from the car, slinging him over his shoulder.

“Dammit, Ro! I was comfy…”

“You'll be even more comfortable once you get some food in you.” Roman slammed the car door shut, then began walking towards the entrance.

Dean kicked his feet slightly in protest, then sighed and slumped in defeat.

“Keep it up, I'll have’em get you a kids menu.”

“Actually, that would be nice…”

Roman stopped for a moment, turning his head to look back at Dean. “Seriously?”

“Not joking.”

Roman sighed, continuing. “It's that bad…? Damn…”

\-----

Roman had carried Dean all the way to the corner booth of the diner, nice and isolated. 

Not that there was anybody else, but Roman liked to have a full view of the room when Dean wasn't feeling well. Used to do that with Seth, but...well, he wasn't here anymore, was he?

Dean curled up in the colorful blanket, feeling his whole body melt the longer he inhaled the calming scent of the fabric softener Roman’s wife used. Wasn't sure the brand or the scent, but it made him feel so tired and...safe...whenever it doused his nostrils.

Before long he had passed out in the booth, head leaning against the window. It wasn't until he felt several taps on his shoulder that he fully woke.

The Lunatic Fringe nearly jumped out of his skin, looking around frantically. “Hu-wha? The fuck d’ya wa-” He finally realized that it was just him and Roman, and he calmed down. “...oh.” 

“Sleep alright?” Roman gave his patented shit-eating little grin, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“I'll sleep better in the hotel.” Dean looked down and noticed the kid's mat and crayons, smiling a bit.

“So they don't have poutine, but they have disco fries. That's almost poutine, right?”

Dean grumbled, opening up the crayon box. “It’ll do.”

“I had to get those myself; the waitress said you were too old,” Roman shook his head. “nobody’s too old to scribble, man…”

“That’s right! Never too old to connect dots and color in clouds in basic red, blue, and yellow…” Dean nodded, doodling little devil horns on the generic humanoid character in the picture.

The waitress arrived, briefly eyeing the kid’s mat, then looked at the duo. “What can I get ya?”

“I'm gonna get your burger here with the steak fries, and he's gonna get the biggest order of disco fries you got.” 

The waitress nodded and scribbled in her notepad. “Anything to drink?”

“Got anything on tap?” Dean smiled widely, garnering an unamused look from the waitress and a disapproving look from Roman. “...just kidding. What do ya have?”

\-----

Dean had finished his relaxing drawing session and gone back to sleep while waiting for dinner to come out. He awoke to the sound of plates hitting the table; Roman’s burger plate was gigantic, the portion of fries overwhelming and tantalizing to Dean in comparison to the main item itself, and his meal was equally as gargantuan. 

The thing that amazed him the most, however, was that his root beer came in a bottle and the mug that was placed down next to it had just been pulled nice and frosty from a freezer, the ice coating giving it a charming touch.

“Wow,” Dean muttered quite sleepily. “this is nice.” He smirked at Roman. “You really know how to pick a place, Ro.”

“I do try, brother. I do try.” Roman smirked back, then looked up at the waitress. “Thanks, ma’am.”

“Welcome. If y’need anything, just holler.”

They waited until the waitress was back at her post before digging in, and Dean abandoned his drawing mat for the starchy, cheesy, gravy-flooded bounty in front of him.

With one hand on his root beer glass, and the other on a fork, Dean wolfed down half of everything before he bothered coming up for air.

Roman had only managed a few bites of his burger and roughly half his fries, in comparison. The Big Dog stared in curiosity and concern, paralyzed in mid-bite as Dean finally took a short breather.

“Okay, for real, what’s up?”

“I did all the work tonight, and I'm hungry. What's wrong with that?” Dean felt his icy walls rebuilding, not so long after the heat of Roman’s car had melted them. A shiver rolled up his spine in response.

“Dean, we've been friends for a long time. The last time you were this out of it, Seth had just beaten the hell outta us with a steel chair.”

“Yeah well, only Seth could really push me like this…” Dean’s fingers clenched into a savage claw, trying to chip away at the glass and only managing to tears lines of ice away. “Not the only thing this time, though.”

“Feel like talking about it?”

“Don't wanna spoil dinner with my bullshit.”

“Your choice.”

Dean grumbled, shoving more of his disco fries in his mouth.

\-----

Back on the road, Dean curled up under the blanket and tried to relax, his stomach full of fatty, cheesy, coated-potato goodness.

Roman had turned the radio on, softly playing some local rock station, nonplussed as the radio jumped stations.

Dean was merely waiting for his phone to buzz.

Back on the highway, Roman sighed and cleared his throat. “So, now that you've eaten, wanna tell me what’s eating you?”

Dean curled up tighter and turned over.

“Get it off your chest, you'll feel better. Believe me.”

Dean sighed deeply, wincing. “Fine, fine.” He grasped at words, as they fled the moment he tried to speak. “My father’s not...he's not my father.”

Roman blinked, turned off the radio, then looked at Dean once they hit a stoplight. “Come again?”

“My dad’s not my dad, Ro. My mom slept around when she got knocked up, and now she's not telling me who he is because she knows I'll be pissed. Okay?”

“Holy crap.” Roman spent the time to process everything while he got back on the highway, waiting until they were back on the long road before formulating any kind of response. “Did she just...spit it out over dinner or…?”

“No. Had to find out the hard way.”

“Some woman come for her and call her a homewrecker or something?”

“He’s got leukemia. Tried to donate some marrow to help him out, and I'm not a match at all. There's really only one way that happens outside of a freak genetic accident.”

Roman nodded, giving a hum of understanding.

“So I ran my mom down about it and she broke. They hadn't had the steadiest thing, her and her hubby. Cooled off and fired back up a few times early on, before I was around. I think he knew about me right off the bat, ya know?” Dean curled up tighter in the blanket, feeling the fabric strain a pinch. “We all kinda figured after a while. I mean, I look a lot like mom, and kinda like my Uncle Steve cuz he's really tall, but…” Dean trailed off, muttering to himself before sighing deeply and clenching his eyes shut, trying to sleep. 

It likely wasn't happening, but it didn't hurt much to try.

He gave up the ghost as Roman began to speak to him after a minute or so.

“Damn...just...damn, brother. How long have ya known?”

“A few days. Just gives me migraines tryin’ to work it all out in my head, ya know?” Dean rolled over. “She wants me to take one of those paternity tests like they do on like, Maury. Well, two; one for my dad, and one for the other guy.” Dean rolled his eyes, sighing. “Great, my migraine’s trying to get thumping again.”

“Sorry. Just chill out, okay? We’ll be at the hotel in a bit. Want me to turn the music up?”

“No, I just wanna sleep, but I can't. Not drunk enough.”

“Can't drink with the aspirin, Dean…”

“Ughhhhhhh…” Dean rolled back over, looking at the sky outside the passenger side back window. “Okay, Dad.” A small huff of mild annoyance from Roman’s side of the car, and Dean knew he was shaking his head in disapproval.

Roman tended to disapprove more these days than usual. He used to be amused with Dean’s little moments, now he just seemed tired.

_It was a long day for everyone._

Dean sighed deeply and clenched his eyes, the weight of his problems lessened considerably by his admission. At least Roman helped him out somehow. 

Now if only he would just let him have another aspirin, or at least some cheap booze.

\----

Roman shook Dean awake gently as they arrived at the hotel. Dean rolled out of the car, maintaining the majority of his blanket burrito form as he grabbed his bags and trudged behind his slightly-more-conscious friend.

He checked his phone. Still no response.

Roman led him along to their room, setting his things in the corner and immediately setting up a sleeping kit.

“No, Roman, take the bed.”

“You're not feeling good. I'll take the floor tonight.”

Dean sighed; Roman was really dead set on it, and if Roman wanted something, he always got it.

_Must be awfully nice._

Dean skittered into the bathroom, taking a long cathartic shower he honestly didn't need given how recently he had already done so, and got into comfortable night clothes before dropping himself on the mattress in defeat.

The remote sat on the pillow, as well as the channel guide. Roman had just curled up and gone to bed, giving Dean free reign of the room.

Dean scanned his kit, spotting the hotel key and his car keys. Silently moving about, he grabbed both, slipped his boots on, and snuck out down to the garage.

Spotting Roman’s truck, he opened it with ease, diving into the glove compartment and snagging the aspirin bottle. Shaking a couple of pills out, he willed a pool of salivation to help them down the hatch before returning the bottle to its place and closing the door.

The elevator ride up was calming, feeling the aspirin kick in and finally shut his aching head and whining limbs up. He leaned back, closing his eyes and ignoring the sounds around him until the elevator stopped moving.

Sliding back unto the room, he replaced the keys as they had been, right down to the flopped key chain's precise angle, then turned on the local cartoon station and curled up in bed, finding sleep to be a lot easier to slip into.


End file.
